


Destinies. Fate: a Bitch? or a Matchmaker?

by ArizonaDream



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Episode Related, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter AU, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Romance, Slash, Slow Build, Supernatural AU: Croatoan/End'verse, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArizonaDream/pseuds/ArizonaDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is still running from Destiny but this time Harry Potter is right there along with him riding shotgun. Sam is still there too as is a treanch-coat loving angel. With the four of them, they will be able to stop the Apocalypse, right? .HPDW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 7: A British Partner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angelwarrior1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelwarrior1/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Destinies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/453026) by [Angelwarrior1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelwarrior1/pseuds/Angelwarrior1). 



> To understand this fic, you must read Destinies by Angelwarrior1 otherwise you won't understand. This is an attempt to carry this great fic on because I personally loved it and it hasn't been updated since 2012, I couldn't take it anymore and here we are. By the way, this is my first fic so bear with me, I am also french so there might be some grammar faults... I'm sorry, I hope it won't be that bad but if it's really awful just tell me. So... there we go!

 Disclaimer: I do not own neither Harry Potter nor Supernatural otherwise I would be driving an Impala.

* * *

 

_"Yeah, alright. So what now?" Harry's left brow rose when Dean smirked at him._

_"Now, we rest up for the night. In the morning we find ourselves a hunt, and you tell me about what you've been doing these last few weeks. It's obvious you've been hunting, so you're gonna show me what you've learned."_

_"Really now? I think I can do that." Harry gave a slight smile of his own, that Dean thought held something back, like Harry knew something he didn't._

_Maybe it wasn't a good idea to challenge Harry. Dean had a feeling he was being tricked somehow._

_\---------------------------------------------  
_

_ A British Partner  
_

Harry suddenly realized that something was missing or rather someone; he looked up from where he was sitting on the bed at a pensive looking Dean staring at the darkness beyond the window. He bit his lip wondering if he should ask and decided that Dean shot him just minutes before so he could ask whatever the hell he damn wanted to.

“Where is Sam?” Dean startled and looked up at him still not answering. “He **was** your brother, right? Is he okay?”

“Yeah… Dean croaks then clears his throat; I mean yeah he was my brother, he **is** my brother, he’s fine as far as I know. He’s taking some time off” Harry raises a brow at that but does not comment on it but Dean saw the look anyway “ It’s complicated, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“I bet” They lapse onto a slightly awkward silence.

“Okay you know one day we should swap our lives stories, I reckon it’d be quite interesting.” Dean shot a smirk at Harry and Merlin he’s even more handsome than he remembered. Harry slapped himself mentally and tuned back into that deep voice.

“I’m sure it would Savior, now I don’t know about you but I’m dead on my feet so let’s rest.”

“I’ll head to my room then…” Harry said nervously “See you in the morning.”

Dean grunted and Harry figured he was dismissed but just before he closed the door quietly, he said softly:

“Goodnight Dean”.

**55555555555555**

The sound of this voice with that lilting English accent saying goodnight to him soothed him and he practically felt the tension that has been accumulated in his shoulders for weeks ebbing slowly away. He slept soundly for the first time in months, hell, years.

The smell of coffee and newspapers shifting woke him up and for a second he thought his brother was back with him but then reality came crashing down around him. That his brother was still working at some bar in a no name town, trying to be normal in the middle of the fucking apocalypse. He suddenly realized that Harry was talking to him with that damn accent of his and tuned in.

“…Hey, hmmm, I brought some coffee and well, donuts, I mean if you want them. I didn’t know what you liked and last time I met you, you were an health nut but seeing you now I wasn’t so sure it was the case so I thou-

"Harry."

"That maybe I shou-

"Harry!"

"Yes", he mumbled.

"Thank you and no I’m not some health freak, that’s my brother for you. Actually after that stunt Zachariah pulled I was fuckin’ hungry!"

"Right" he chuckled

Fuck he’s cute, oh and now he’s blushing, shit what did he get myself into. The ladies, Dean you love the ladies, you are a confirmed ladies man and Harry is definitely not a woman and he’s certainly not cute for god’s sake.

\---Even thought you passed the last months unconsciously looking for him or at least trying to get it on with every girl with dark hair and green eyes… A voice that sounded strangely like his annoying little brother whispered in his head.

SHUT UP

Just sayin’

Well DON’T---

“So I found us a hunt, at least I think so, I’m new to this after all” The smirk Harry gave him belied what he was sayin’.

“Ok let me take a shower and run me through it WitchBoy.” He shut the bathroom door before he could hear what was sure to be a scathing retort. The sight of those damn green eyes and that long dark hair even more messy after the night, looking like he just got spectacularly laid did things to him.

“Fuck” And now he sported a semi, he sighed and got into the shower to take care of it.

Washing himself, he tried to force it away but nothing worked so he shoved a hand in his hair gripping it then placed it on the wall and roughly took himself in hand trying to think of Rhonda Hurley or really any women he could think of, everything except the man on the other side of the bathroom door. It didn’t work. “Of course.” He then gripped himself, hard, wanting to be quick about it. Thoughts of green eyes darkened in lust looking up at him, pale skin bruised and covered in biting marks that he placed there, Harry on his knees in that same shower moaning and eager to take him in his mouth groaning “Dean” with his accent. That mouth he kissed that tasted of forest, cherry and somehow lightning finally taking him in slowly, first lavishing him with kitten licks. “Fuck yeah” He put his head on his arm and bit into it to muffle his voice. Thinking about putting his hand and gripping those tempting silky hair with his fingers forcing him to take more, imagining Harry moaning louder at the action. The kneeling man slowly lowering his unoccupied hand to his leaking cock and moving it up and down his own shaft still sucking his dick like it was the best damn thing he ever tasted. “Ohh, hmmm, yes, yes, holy… Har-”.

It was quick.

 

**55555555555555**

Harry focused on reading the newspaper, because he knew if he didn’t he would imagine Dean’s body glistening from the water cascading down his strong back…Focus, right, it looked like a vampire. He was still repeating the word vampire over and over in his head to keep his arousal at bay when it was all shot to hell: Dean walked into the room with just a towel loosely tied around his hips, he took one look and quickly turned back to the papers. Merlin, drool-inducing… He didn’t know if he should start hunting with Dean if that reaction was anything to go by, living in close quarter would not be good for his nerves.

“HARRY!”

“Huh?”

“You alright man? I called for you two times already!”

“Oh sorry, lost in thought” He knew he was blushing, from the heat he felt in his cheeks, curse that pale complexion. Dean turned a questioning look his way but seemed to dismiss it fast, shaking his head. Thank Merlin for small mercies.

“Whatever, don’t get too lost, so…”

“Yes?”

“The case?!” Harry startled and looked at Dean sheepishly who promptly rolled his eyes.

“ Ravenna in Kentucky, five bodies drained of all their blood during the last week, all found next to pubs, bars or clubs…"

"Right so that points to…"

"Vampire"

"Yeah… You thinking nest or lone wolf?" Dean said chuckling at his own joke. It was then Harry’s turn to roll his eyes, seriously, is he for real?!

"I would say nest by the number of the victims but not a big one, you?"

"Same” Dean said excitedly, Harry looked at him weirdly but smiled at the childish glee Dean was emitting.

Dean, probably seeing his look reddened a little at the top of his ears and wasn’t that unfair! “I love me some vampires, finally a good ol’ hunt!”

“What do you mean?

"Just that it’s been a long time since we, I mean, I, didn’t have to go up against those dicks with wings or annoying demons with their taste for one liners, vampires is just what the doctor ordered.”

Harry didn’t quite know what to say to that after all until recently he didn’t know that angels existed and he never encountered demons which he thought staying with Dean will certainly remedy that piece off his list that he really wasn’t missing.

“Then let’s go” he said smiling at the hazel-green eyed hunter.

 


	2. Chapter 8: The Hunt

 

Disclaimer: I do not own neither Harry Potter nor Supernatural.  


* * *

 

_The Hunt_

Even his car oozed sex which okay, of course, he should have known…He personally decided to forgo his own car because bloody hell, he wanted in that car so bad it wasn’t even funny, besides he thought that maybe when he stopped hunting with Dean he could ask the angel, Castiel, to get him back to it. And it was a great reason to fly the heavenly way, he missed flying dearly and he was ever so curious, who could blame him: Angels!

He was sitting “shotgun” like Dean said earlier in that drawl of his that made American lingo sounds like phone sex, still mortified and blushing from what he said when he first looked upon the black and gleaming classic car.

_They were checking out of the motel going in the parking lot when he spotted the car and couldn’t stop the appreciating glance he gave it, then he noticed Dean making a beeline for it caressing the hood and opening the driving side door. Dean seemed to notice he wasn’t there and looked back to see him, probably standing there, gaping, most surely looking like an idiot._

_Dean smirked “Beautiful isn’t she?” still caressing the hood sensually, at least it was sensual from Harry’s point of view._

_“Yeah, he whispered, yours?"_

_"Damn right, all mine!"_

_"Bloody hell… I mean it suits you", and he really really couldn’t stop himself from mumbling, because he apparently had no brain-to-mouth filter; "in the way that this car is sex on wheels…"_

_Dean smirk widened if it was possible and he said innocently,_

_"What? Sorry, couldn’t quite catch that?"_

_"Nothing, absolutely nothing, don’t pay attention, I’m barmy, talking to myself" he said laughing nervously blushing up a storm._

_"Really I swear I could have heard something like “sex-on-wheels”"_

_"Shut up” Harry retorted looking at the ground willing his blush away._

_He looked up when he heard a deep throaty laugh that made something warm pooled in his stomach. And was rewarded by the sight of the first real smile he saw on the other man since he met him again. He sighed and smiled softly at the view, feeling a little humbled for some reason, Dean didn’t look like someone who truly smiled often despite the laughing crinkles in the corners of his eyes._

_“Well, get in shorty, we don’t have all day”_

Harry scowled at the reminders of the nicknames Dean saw fit to give him

“For the record Mr. American, you can do better than calling me shorty, it’s really not original and if you haven’t noticed I’m no witch, wrong gender. And I know the witches you deal with are no good, evil even, and I know you all call them that so don’t do it!"

"Alright don’t get your panties in a twist British boy", Dean said shooting him that bloody smirk again that he wanted to kiss off his face, no he meant slap, yes, slap off his face.

"And it’s because of one of those so called “demon’s bitch” that I started hunting in this world."

Dean looked at him surprised “Really? How did you actually started hunting?"

"I was passing through a small town in Ohio when I spotted a woman reading curses off a book to a man, obviously hurting him so I helped him and the both of us we took her down and here I am."

"Huh, what was the hunter’s name? I assume he was a hunter."

"Oh yeah he was and his name is Rufus, nice bloke too, a bit of a drunk, you know him?"

"Rufus, yeah I know him, good hunter and he doesn’t know about you?"

"No, I mean I think he suspects he’s far too smart no to."

"That’s probably it, you don’t stay alive as long as him in this business not developing some kind of sixth sense."

"I suppose, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"How did you got into this hunting thing?"

"Long story…"

"I see.”

When Harry didn’t say anything more than that, Dean turned to look at him, studying his delicate profile looking out at the passing scenery and he didn’t know if it was the left over affection from the Stepford daydream of Zachariah or his renewed own attraction for the smaller hunter or the fact that he wasn’t going to pry or ask more about the ominous answer but he started to talk and talk about his mom, her death, his dad dragging them around the country since they were toddlers, his dad’s obsession over Azazel, his childhood looking after Sammy, the smelly motel rooms, the crappy diner food, the highschools they went to… He still draw the line at Sam’s demon blood problem, the vessels situation and the on going apocalypse even if he knew it was inevitable that Harry learn about it sooner or later but for now he was content with later. Because he didn’t doubt, no, he knew that the green-eyed sweetheart sitting next to him would immediately want to help if he dropped the bomb, for now he would wait and see.

He also didn’t forget what he said to Sam when they were in the fake reality about not dragging Harry into their mess and maybe Cas said he would be a great ally and maybe the smaller man could take care of himself but that didn’t mean he liked it, plus the more time he spent with him, the more he realized he still wanted to protect him. After that last thought he had some sort of epiphany: that maybe Harry’s mumbo jumbo placed him there at that particular moment with him because it somehow knew that he’ll feel that way towards the English man, weird and really not a comforting thought. He should hate it, usually hated feeling used like that but for once he couldn’t help but feel glad for it. Okay wow, too much insight at once right now, alert, retreat, retreat he told his brain, too early and too much driving ahead to think about some sentient mojo exploiting him and his protective ways. Besides, avoiding was after all still one of his best skill.

After he finished, running out of words, he willed himself to look at the green-eyed man. Who was staring at him intensely with moistened eyes filled with unshed tears that somehow enhanced their emerald quality. Understanding was mostly what he found though and it made him warm and strangely happy to have said all he did. But still he had to destroy the moment, no chick-flick moments as they say and with all the drama lately he was starting to think that this rule was getting forgotten, which…No, just no.

“Hey, don’t go all girly on me now” He weakly said. Harry only gave him a soft smile and again turned to look outside the passenger’s window. And that was that. Damn, why did he have to be so, so, so…Perfect, there he said it!

**5555555555555**

They drove and finally arrived in the charming town of Ravenna in the afternoon, he was horrified to know that Harry didn’t know any of the bands on his cassettes so he passed all his favorites, from LedZep to AC/DC passing by Metallica, singing along and making Harry laugh. The first time he heard him laugh he stopped singing just to listen to it and it was like Harry was startled into it, like he didn’t laugh a lot and it was airy and tinkling and fuckin’ beautiful that’s what it was. He wondered briefly if the wizard put a spell on him to have one of those aforementioned chick-flick moment with himself and snorted at the thought. Bottom line was he wanted to make Harry laugh a all lot more now so he sang and sang till his voice was hoarse and Harry had tears of mirth in his eyes and was trying to sing too even thought he didn’t know the lyrics. With the impala windows open and the breeze caressing his face gently, messing Harry’s hair even more, the music blaring, Harry’s laugh floating around him, enveloping him, he felt free, like he could take on the world and so so good, the best he had felt in such a long time he doesn’t even remember the last time he felt that way if he ever had, he might add.

They decided to split and conquer, Dean as an FBI agent went to the small town’s police office without Harry cause’ he looked too young and well, too British. So the younger hunter went to look for some of the witnesses see if he could make them talk because Harry seemed to have that same quality Sammy had, to make people trust him, talk to him because they knew he would listen, Dean definitely didn’t have that, oh he could make people like him, charm them like nobody’s business but not so much make them trust him (doesn’t hurt that the dark haired man had those damn puppy dog eyes of doom too), proof enough: what happened during the drive there, hell if the guy could crack him he could definitely make some scared badly fucked housewife or a spoiled traumatized and hangover teen open up, he also had to look into the places where the victims were found.

All went smoothly on his part; he was able to confirm vampires after a tour of the local morgue. He had the morbid but passing thought that if he wanted to he could make a book about American morgues. He called Harry and met him at the bar where he was asking questions, to have some grub, they hadn’t had lunch, in other words: blasphemy.

They took a seat with Dean barely glancing at the waitress giving him a heated look. “So definitely vampire", Dean said by way of greeting, "what did you found?"

"Well a group of six people have been making the rounds in the bars in town including this one."

"Let me guess, real night owls, rowdy bunch…" Harry looked at him amused.

"Yep and guess what there’s an abandoned warehouse just outside of town making too much noise nowadays to really be abandoned if you know what I mean."

"They really are stupid, someone would think immortality would make them more paranoid or at least cautious."

"Better than bitter or power hungry", Harry said with a dark look in his eyes.

"Harry?"

"Sorry, I don’t really have a good experience with immortality."

"Voldemort?"

"Yes, but let’s not talk about it so we take care of it tonight?"

"We’ll talk about it someday I’m telling you, I won’t be the only one having to bare my soul!" He said jokingly; "And yes, I think so, again it’s been a long time since I had a hunt without any sort of hitch or complications and it seems to be heading the easy way for once plus I’ve been hitching to decapitate some real ugly monster, old school style", Dean said sighing happily.

"Plus you’ve still got to check out my hunting capabilities!"

"I do, don’t I? Well than it’s settled! Now let’s introduce you to the wonders of burgers and bacon!"

"Do your best Mr Big Bad Hunter!" Teased Harry.

Dean smirked, with a look in his eyes that didn’t bode well for Harry;

"Oh, trust me, I will…”

**55555555555555**

 

The actual fighting went down smoothly but for the fact that all the vampires seemed to want a bite out of him, apparently his blood was quite appetizing (after the showdown Dean jokingly called him “vamp catnip” but still with a dark angry look in his eyes that told him he had enjoyed killing them just for trying to bite him, a look that made him feel protected and all warm…again), who knew? They arrived, surprising them during a feeding with Dean being cocky, taunting them with Twilight (whatever that was) remarks, they each took down three and freed the two captured humans-about-to-be-meals. All in all a job well done and he won’t lie, hunting with Dean was much more fun than with Rufus.

 

Right now they were in the car heading to a motel downtown and Harry was actively trying not to put any blood in the car. Dean seeing his troubles smiled “You know it’s okay, this baby have seen her fair share of blood, grime and things that I won’t say out loud."

"Oh, okay it’s just…"

"What?"

"You seem to put so much effort into her."

"Well, doesn’t everybody put effort into their home?"

"Exactly."

"Really it’s okay Harry."

"If you’re sure."

"I am."

"So… My hunting?" Harry eagerly questioned, he smacked himself in his head for sounding like a puppy looking for approval but he really wanted to know what Dean thought.

"Well…"

"Well… Come on mate!"

"I’m not that impressed…"

"What?!" Harry looked so scandalized Dean couldn’t keep his laugh at bay anymore. "Dean, stop it, Dean!"

"Calm down, God, I’m kidding, kidding, not bad at all for a newbie." (Really, thought Dean, Harry chopping a vamp’s head off with a machete was the single most hot fucking thing he ever saw and if that wasn’t telling about how fucked up he was in the head, then Dean didn’t know what was) The older man then winked at him and smiled his crooked smile and Harry was gone, he was angry at himself for not being able to be mad at Dean for more than a few minutes, yes Dean was that good looking, he could keep the famous Potter temper at bay.

"Thanks", Harry murmured after he took a hold of himself.

"Hey you wanna have the we-killed-the-sons of bitches-drinks of victory after we cleaned up?"

"Alright, why not.”

**55555555555555**

 

They cleaned up, washing the blood away and got out. Dean in his favorite ripped jeans, brown biker boots, grey button up, red flannel and his trusty leather jacket; when he saw Harry getting out of his room next to his, his breath didn’t caught in his throat cause’ he’s not that lame but almost. Harry was in form fitting black jeans, leather ankle boots, a ruby red shirt that he swore was freakin’ painted on his skin and his black leather jacket. “Shit”

"What?"

"What?"

"Oh, I thought you said something, never mind…"

"Whatever"; Dean said still looking at Harry.

"Huh, Mate? Are we going?"

"Oh yeah, sorry, get in my lord." Dean said with an exaggerated gesture while opening the passenger door.

"Don’t mind if I do sir.” Harry said giggling and like déjà vu slapped his hand in front of his mouth looking sheepishly at Dean from behind his eyelashes but Dean just looked at him with a certain fond? He thought it was a fond look, but that couldn’t be, right? Right.

The bar was packed with some rock music, that sounded like the Stones to Dean’s hear, blaring out of the speakers; he spotted a pool table, darts game and cards game being played, his sort of bar then. Awesome, the past two days kept getting better and better and Dean being a Winchester was just waitin’ for the other shoe to drop. But for now he decided to enjoy it while it lasted, after all: apocalypse, got to make every second count. With that thought in mind he made a beeline for the bar, keeping Harry close with one hand on the small of his back that he desperately wanted to put lower, no Dean, out of the gutter. He snorted, how to get out of it when you spent most of your life in it, he darkly wondered.

“I’ve seen you eyeing the pool table, go on, go make yourself some money, I’ll get the drinks."

"You sure?"

"Yes Dean, go! I know you want to", Dean smiled winningly at him and made his way through, well people got out of his way more like it, like people used to do with his dad. He thought that it was the invisible _keep-away_ sign all hunters seemed to acquire after some time in the job that normal people unconsciously saw. He felt kinda badass. Hé, who was he kidding, he was most definitely badass!

Dean got into the game fast enough, hustling his opponents quickly and efficiently like only a person who had done it all his life could do. But after some time, he realized Harry was taking too long so he turned his vision to the bar and his blood ran cold, than, as sudden, hotter than ever. There, at the bar was an admittedly not so bad looking guy hitting on Harry and quite intently from his point of view, Harry seemed to be struggling against an arm curled firmly around his right arm. He took all that in, in seconds, took the money he had won and was at Harry’s side in less.

Putting his right arm around Harry’s waist, facing the man Dean looked at him with the sort of look he kept for when he was facing down a demon.

“Well sweetheart, what’s taking you so long?"

"Dean?!" Harry said surprised. Dean changed his look to one of pure adoration when he looked down at the younger one. Harry was looking at him with those eyes and he heard the douchebag saying something about not knowing he was taken but he couldn’t care less. Harry was staring at him intensely, blushing, said man’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips and Dean just thought the world had gone in sound-proof mode, he followed the movement and wondered if they still tasted the same and if he still reacted to his kisses the way he did in the Malibu world. Harry seemed to have the same idea from the way he was staring at his own lips. He slowly began to descend on him, Harry went onto his tiptoes and God how he wanted him and…The moment was broken.

“Here are your drinks gents!”

They startled and separated quickly and suddenly like they were burned and looked at anywhere but themselves for some time, Harry blushing and him coughing.

“Huh, sorry, ah, you looked like you needed help." Dean said scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah, I mean, thank you, he didn’t take no for an answer and his pick up lines were just lame, do they even work?!" Harry asked laughing and just like that the awkwardness left, the moment over but not forgotten.

"Don’t knock em’ till you try em’, besides it depends on who says em’!" Dean said winking and smirking.

"I guess", Harry said laughing. "Oh I’ve been meaning to ask what’s your last name? It’s not Smith right? When we were in the Angel world I thought it didn’t suit you at all."

"Oh and why wouldn't Smith suit me?" Said Dean with mirth in his eyes.

"It’s just, you know, just not right, I guess…" Harry said lamely.

"Well you’re absolutely right! It’s not and my name is Winchester, Dean Winchester." Dean said smirking about the James Bond way he said it.

"That’s more like it!" Harry said smiling like he won the lottery; "It suits you…"

"Suits me like my car?"

"You’ll never let that go will you?" Harry groaned.

"Nope", said Dean popping the “p” at the end, smirking all the while. "But I’ll take that as a compliment."

"Oh, it is!”

 

They went back to the motel with a nice buzz, said good night to each other at their respective doors and both of them fell asleep instantly. For Harry the best sleep he had in years with no nightmares or red eyes haunting him but hazel-green eyes and a cocky smirk.

Dean for the second time, which could be considered a miracle, slept without nightmares of hell, scathing fire and burning ice, inconsiderable pain, taunting voices or blood curling screams but emerald eyes and pale skin. Well, up until Cas called him about killing the devil and something about the Colt and damn it he had forgotten about that all mess with the reprieve of the vampire hunt and isn’t that telling about his life when decapitating freakin’ vampires was some sort of relief, adding the distracting presence of Harry…He sighed and it’s too late, or is it too early for this so he said that he will join him when he’ll wake up; just a little more…

 

…And the famous Winchester’s other shoe, dropped.

 


	3. Chapter 9: Agonizing End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is way longer then the first two, I just got carried away cause' this episode is one of my personal favourite.
> 
> But well, here we go... Tell me what you think :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own neither Harry Potter nor Supernatural.

* * *

 

_Agonizing End_

 

Something felt very wrong, seriously, very wrong. Dean it’s time to open your eyes and follow your instincts because this is not good, you don’t know what it is but it’s not. So he woke up and immediately went for his silver knife under his pillow, except, well no pillow and definitely no knife. He quickly turned and looked around taking stock of the room he still remembered falling asleep in but that, that wasn’t the same room, it couldn’t be… Harry! He quickly opened his door and ran for the room next to his, pounding the door in with his foot without preamble, if Harry really was in there he figured he’d wake him up and then they could freak out together about what the hell was going on now in their fucked up lives. But nothin’ not a trace of the wizard just an upturned room lookin’ like his own with none of his stuff. And damn there was none of his things too and he felt naked without his fetish gun that was more like his security blanket and he was beginning to think that he really was goin’ to need some sort of weapon in this weird motel, world, whatever and wherever the fuck he landed himself into this time.

He had the sudden urge to look out the window; he made his way through the room with a feeling of dread forming in the pit of his stomach. “Jesus” he chocked the word out, the world he was staring at in shock was not the world he went to sleep to last night. The world looked like well, like the apocalypse happened and he guessed was still happening “hell on earth” was the expression wasn’t it. This all thing stunk of angel mojo if you asked him. Awesome, really, awesome. God how he hated those winged sons of bitches, but that also told him it wasn’t real, at least he hoped not. He really had to get out of here and figure out what was goin’ down in this world he had woken up in, well no time like the present! He told himself encouragingly. Bobby’s he had to go to the salvage yard, best place to start.

**55555555555555**

Croatoan, the croatoan virus that was their end game, he should have known. The only real thing he’s sure of is that this world has gone to hell in a hand basket, it’s somehow five years into the future then when he went to sleep and hey look at that his instincts were right, fuckin’ angels man, sometimes, hell who was he kiddin’ all the time he wished he was wrong. The world would be a better place if say, Sammy was more often right than him. He was attacked by a crazy little croatoan girl, huh nice rhythm to that sentence “crazy little croatoan girl, ooohhhh, crazy little croatoan girl”, Dean thought with a little bit of hysteria there “That’s it you finally snapped dude”. No focus, steal a car, go to Bobby’s, yes a plan that’s what he needs.

Now he’s in the car he stole after runnin’ for his life from infected people all wanting a piece of the only sweet ass left. God he hoped not, hoped he wasn’t the only one left not goin’ all Shaun Of The Dead.

Bobby will know.

**55555555555555**

Except Bobby wasn’t there anymore and he’s kinda waiting the moment he will break down and cry all the tears he kept inside for years but he needs to keep goin’, needs to know where Sam is, where Harry is, where Cas is, fuck where is everybody because they need to be still there in 2014, please let them be there. He wants to pray but doesn’t because fuck God and he’s feeling spiteful cause’ that hole in Bobby’s wheelchair has made a whole new hole in his heart and he knows it’s not really his reality that he’ll wake up in two days like that asshole Zachariah said and Bobby will still be there but damn it he can’t deal with that sort of crap. Because that’s a really real, possible future, at that point he knows but, no, no he can’t think like that. He needs to find some clue in Bobby’s house or more in what’s left of it, needs something to move forward to because if he doesn’t he knows he’ll crumble.

Ah, a hidden compartment, thank Bobby for being a paranoid bastard. And there it is, his journal and a…picture? Cas is on it in the right corner looking, scruff with a shotgun wearing flannel and seeming so, well, so human that he doesn’t quite believe what he sees for a second, the next thing he sees makes him smile stupidly cause’ there, right there in the middle is Bobby alive scowling but even he can see the love and humor in his eyes, blue eyes that are frowning upon Harry in his lap lookin’ like he just jumped on it with one arm around Bobby’s neck and the other spread like it’s a freakin’ Broadway show, gay thought Dean, gay thought, oh shut up, with a strained but still happy smile on his pretty face facing the camera. And yes he knows he’s smiling like a dork because that means Bobby accepts and sees Harry as family and that means Sammy too and of course Cas but with how he reacted to Harry the first time he’s not really surprised; he knows he’s bursting with glee at that simple thought he just prefers not really lingering on the why. Still no Sam and that puts a dent on his mood so rapidly he gets whiplash but he doesn’t despair, his little bro’ would be someone who would want to make a family picture during the apocalypse for feelings and memories and stuff that only Sam and pre-teen girls care about.

On to Camp Chitaqua it is.

**55555555555555**

Following Bobby’s instructions he arrives sometimes during the night and parks the car he stole behind a wall of leaves cause’ he figures the apocalypse would make anybody paranoid. He walks the rest on foot and hides the best he can goin’ around the back, hello, sentinels! He stealthily hides himself and that’s when he sees it his baby, his poor abandoned, all broken up baby. He snaps, doesn’t even think, just breaks the lock on the electric fence with a crowbar he found and goes straight for the impala or more the shadow of his Impala. That’s it he must be dead in this future to have left his baby in this condition. She’s parked in the middle of wild plants, that’s so so wrong, his baby is meant for the open roads of America, dominating asphalt like she owns it, not, not this, her condition is a sign of how bad things have gotten, he know it as well as he knows her engine. She isn’t even black anymore, all rusty looking and forgotten like some of the cars in Bobby’s salvage yard. He can’t stop himself he has to tell her; “Don’t worry baby, I’m here, it’s gonna be okay, I’m gonna take care of you, promise, I promise baby-

He doesn’t have time to finish the thought, a blow to the back of his head and all he sees is darkness, sweet blessed darkness, he welcomes it, anything to get out of this never ending nightmare.

**55555555555555**

He wakes up to the ever-familiar feeling of pain in the back of his head. Suddenly on alert because some douchebag knocked him out, he registers the room, he’s sitting on a cold floor one exit in front of him, one on his right, two windows on his left. And oh, his right hand is cuffed to some iron pole, original he notes sarcastically and he has just had it, really, come on, could this get any worst.

Apparently he just jinxed himself, he really should know by now that Murphy’s Law always applies when it comes to Winchesters because wonders of all wonders guess who just walked through the door on his right like he freaking owns the place which, hey he probably does, the one and only, he repeats only, the very same one he probably called a douchebag in his head just moments before: him or, he guesses, future!him. For a moment he just stares stunned beyond reason because it’s one thing to look at yourself in the mirror, it’s another thing to look at you, really see you and wonderin’ if everybody else also sees the cracks and the broken shell of a man you really are or if you’re that good, you don’t think you’re that good. But the man in front of him who is him but not quite, he gives a all new meaning to empty and broken, it’s what he sees staring back at him in any mirrors but magnified to the point that it’s painful to just look at.

“Good you’re awake, we have to talk, future!him says, he’s going to call him that in his head so as not to get more confused or weirded out than he already is which would be quite a feat for anyone that manages it at that point.

“What the hell?”

“ I should be asking that question, don’t you think? In fact” said future!him pointing his riffle in his direction, “tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t gank you right here and now.”

“ Because you’ll only be hurting yourself, he answered lamely and really it was more a question than a statement.

“ Very funny” future!him retorted clearly not amused by his past self and, seriously, what the hell?!

Knowing himself quite well in this kind of position, and by that he means, “shoot first, ask questions later”, case in point: Harry. He scrambled to reassure his future self, he had to get out of here and explore this camp, had to know what had happened to everybody.

“Look man, I’m no shapeshifter (because he figured that his future self still hated the disgusting sons of bitches as much as he did), or demon or anything okay?” He said out of breath, this kind of talk he could do, this, he knew and that semblance of normality calmed him for the time being.

“Yeah, I know I did the drill while you were out: silver, salt, holy water; nothing.” Future!him seemed strangely pissed off by that but he looked pissed since the moment he walked in so he figured that was par of the course with future!Dean. He had the strange want, even need to put some kind of emotions, anything, in those blank green eyes that regarded him passively. “But you know what was funny” continued Dean in that same tone of voice that was even more deep than his own actual present voice, “is that you had every hit and lock, pick pocks, cutter and switchblades that I carry.” He touched his right pockets instinctively not liking that his future self searched him and feeling strangely violated. “You wanna explain that? Oh, he added, and the resemblance while you’re at it.”

Dean slumped in on himself, might as well tell him, he knew how stubborn he could be after all. So he said looking at himself with resignation but he figured they could cursed the bastard together now:

“Zachariah.” And he was surprised that, that particular name seemed to put more emotion in the man’s eyes than he had seen so far, he tried to decipher it, there was hate, yes Zachy could do this to someone particularly him but also some kind of determined desperation.

“Come again.” Said future!Dean standing up still holding his rifle like it was the only thing keeping him together, and knowing him, it probably was.

“I’m you, and wasn’t that the weirdest thing he ever said, from the tail of 2009, Zach plucked me from my bed and threw me five years into the future.” He said sighing and exasperated, tired more than angry by his own life because he really should expect this kind of situation by now.

“Where is he? I wanna talk to him.” Said Dean!2014 sounding needy and desperate, and okay he said he wanted to put something into those eyes but not that and certainly not because of that angel dick. Something was definitely not right, he could feel it in his bones and he didn’t mean the whole time-travel and facing himself but more, he couldn’t really pinpoint it but he had the anxious feeling he didn’t really want to.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, you don’t know.” Said the other man, clearly not impressed.

He was really getting fed up of his attitude!

“ **No** , I don’t know! Look, I just wanna get back to my own freakin’ year okay!” Really, the nerve of the guy.

Said guy looked even more angry and disgusted by his retort. He passed his hand in front of his mouth and damn, he knew that gesture, he had to tread closely now, his future!self was clearly holding his temper since the beginning of the conversation. He wasn’t really sure future!he was going to keep it in anymore and he really didn’t want to be at the receiving end of a Dean Winchester temper tantrum, he intimately knew they were ugly and most of the time resorted to violence. If it got down to a fight, and wouldn’t that be petty, he was pretty sure his apocalyptic self would win. He didn’t like it but it didn’t mean it wasn’t clearly true.

“Okay, said Dean lowering himself to be at eye level with him, if you’re me then tell me something only I would know.” He said looking him straight in the eye and challenging him. Seriously?! He rolled his eyes but never one to back down from such a blatant challenge and certainly not in front of himself. He scrambled for something and it dawned on him…Harry.

He looked straight back, amused in some twisted way and posing his answer as also a test for himself to see if he, at some point accepted his obvious attraction for the green-eyed man and thinking about him; it seemed like a lifetime ago since he last saw him even if he knew it was yesterday, damn it, he missed him already.

“2009, really two days ago for me, in a dirty shower in some rundown motel you jerked yourself off not to the thought of Rhonda Hurley and the pink panties, huh I could have used that cause’ you liked it you kinky motherfucker, or any women you could think of but to the thought of a certain green-eyed British hunter sucking your dick like it was a damn lollypop.” The more he talked, the more he saw a certain light entering his future self’s eyes, he saw something positive and strong, stronger than the anger he seemed to surround himself in entering his eyes for just a moment, so quick, but it was enough for him. The moment was none the less over in seconds and future!Dean closed himself once more to that horrifying blank.

“Touché” he whispered softly, absently looking to the side, reminiscing.

The silence that followed was heavy with meaning that he couldn’t grasp but should and he saw the tension doubled if that was even possible in the other!Dean’s shoulders.

He realized that he pitied himself, sad thought for everybody involved and a feeling he knew he didn’t like to see in others features when they looked at him so he quickly hid it from the other man that was already back to his rifle.

“So what? Zack zapped you up here to see how bad it gets.” He stated more than questioned.

“I guess, and seeing the tension had lessened decided it was time for some Q&A, Croatan virus, right? That’s their end game?” He added when he saw the other giving him an inquisitive look, still preparing guns and ammos on the wooden table in the middle of the room.

“It’s efficient, it’s incurable and it’s scary as hell. Turns people into monsters. Started hitting the major cities back two years ago. World really went into the crapper after that.”

A thought hit him like a ton of bricks, because the other man sill hadn’t mentioned him and the feeling of dread he felt since the time he arrived here grew till’ a cold sweat broke in his back. He was almost too afraid too ask because he just knew he wouldn’t like the answer. He was always a glutton for punishment so he voiced it anyway.

“What about Sam?” And the other man stopped what he was doing momentarily like he wasn’t used to hear that name anymore and it’s the first time Dean saw him caught off guard, just enough to know that he was right and no, no, no, no, please **no** … The other reigned himself in, stopped what he was doing entirely and looked at him, he seemed to question what he was going to say. His voice came out neutral, again, blank.

“Heavy weight showdown in Detroit, from what I understand Sam didn’t make it.” His voice slightly wobbled at the end there. And Dean knew he was entering denial, cause’ that wasn’t possible, Sam wasn’t dead, right? Right?! But lookin’ at himself it all came down to a scary understanding. But wait…

“You weren’t with him?” Dean said incredulously, that was more shocking on itself than Sam’s suppose death.

“ **No**.” And there was so many emotions twisted into that simple word, he flinched. And apparently it wasn’t over; his future self wanted him to suffer just as much as he was. Wanted him to comprehend just how far off everything went. “No, me and Sam, we haven’t talked in, hell, five years.” And that means it started in 2009, when he said they were better off apart, his fault, goddamnit, his fault. Of course not, stronger as a family, he knows it, fuck. He wanted to punch something; he wanted to punch himself but most of all he wanted to punch Sammy for accepting what he said back in his time.

And speaking of which,

“We never tried to find him?” Again incredulous could not even compass what he was feeling.

“We had other people to worry about.” Said other!him rolling his eyes. And what the fuck? Who is more important than Sam, okay it maybe a selfish thought but he knows how he thinks, Sammy before anyone else, he couldn’t have changed that much, it’s so ingrained in him, it must be part of his DNA for Christ’ sake!

“Where are you goin’?” He wasn’t going to leave, fuck, he couldn’t just drop something like that on him and expect him to sit still, he knows him better than that!

“I have to run an errand.” And that’s, that’s, just not gonna fly at all!

“Whoa, you just gonna leave me here?!” Incredulous seemed to be the emotion of the jour.

“ **Yes**.” Okay and apparently his future self was just as fed up with him as he was with him. “I got a camp full of twitchy trauma survivors out there with an apocalypse hangin’ over their head. The last thing they need to see is a version of the parent trap.” Oh, hey glad to see he didn’t lose his witty humor completely. “So yeah, you stay lock down.”

“Okay” he’ll give him that, “alright, fine but you don’t have to cuff me man!” Which he certainly had to cause’ no way he’s gonna stay put. He doesn’t take no orders from nobody, not even himself goddamnit! Seeing the man leaving with his duffle bag, he tried something, giving his signature crooked smile, “oh! Come on! You don’t trust yourself?!”

The other man stopped and turned to look over at him with his lips quirking a little on the side, like it was one big cosmic joke and maybe it was, snorted like he couldn’t believe he just asked him that said,

“No, absolutely not.”

Yeah, maybe it was. Still…

“ Dick.”

The final word that somehow seemed to bring forth all his thoughts.

**55555555555555**

Finally getting himself out the cabin, he began to walk around camp not seeing a lot of people, at least not people he knew. He looked around curious about the hippy camp vibes he was getting in the middle of some sort of ground zero.  

“Hey, Dean you got a second?” He knew that voice,

“No, yes, ah, I guess, Hi Chuck!” He said confusion and relief fueling his voice.

“Yeah hi”, said Chuck out of breath and the apocalypse didn’t really change the guy at all, strangely amused and comforted by the notion, “listen we’re pretty good on can goods for now but we’re down to next to nothing on paraschives and hygiene supplies, people are not gonna be happy about this so…What do you think we should do?” Chuck looked up at him expectantly like he had all the answers and he cannot deal with tampons on top of everything right now. He decides to voice his shortcomings because this is Chuck and he really doesn’t have to put up a front with him cause’ the guy wrote the damn “Winchester Gospel” and knows pretty much everything about him.

“I, I, I don’t know, huuhh, maybe…Share, he blurted, like in a kibbutz.” Which is probably what they already do but he reserves himself the right to freak out anytime he damn well wants to in this shitty reality.

“Wait a minute, aren’t you suppose to be out on a mission right now?” Said Chuck looking strangely at him. He really needs to find Cas or Harry or even both but he’s not that lucky, just, somebody he thought desperately.

“Absolutely! And I will be…”

Chuck suddenly looked past his right shoulder and what now?!

“oh, oh…”

Instinctively blocking the punch coming his way, a tan woman came into view and well seeing the fury in her eyes and having learned early in life that an angry woman is unstoppable he retreated and made a shield out of Chuck.

“Whoa, Lady!”

“Risa”, whispered Chuck.

“Risa”, he said in an uncertain voice.

“You spent the night in Jane’s cabin last night didn’t you?!”

“Ah what? Well Risa certainly caught him there, I, I, did I?” He directed his question at Chuck who nodded nervously his eyes half closed. Traitor.

“I thought we had a “connection”!” Visible air quotes, so he said that, well, he did sound like the kind of crap he spout on a daily basis to get laid.

He couldn’t stop himself, half smirking, half smiling he said,

“Well I’m sure that we do…”

“Hi Risa”, added Chuck to the scary woman who marched off firmly saying,

“Screw you.”

“I’m getting busted for stuff I haven’t even done yet”, he murmured to himself.

“What?” Oh right, Chuck.

“Ah, never mind”, getting over that quickly because he cannot deal with the stuff that seems to pile and pile on top of one of his most crappy day thus far in his crappy life. The plan, focus, Harry! Cas! “Hey Chuck, is, is Harry or Cas still here?” He tried uncertainly.

“Harry?!” Said Chuck then looking pityingly at him asked softly, “Dean, are you alright?”

“Yes I’m fine!” He said hysterically because he knew that look, Harry…No, no, no, no. Don’t think about what that might means you’ll never get anything done otherwise. Now Chuck thinks you’re ready to go howlin’ for the mad house, find some solid ground.

“Cas?” Please let him be there. There has to be someone!

“Cas”, Chuck said in a disbelieving tone chuckling, “of course Cas is here, Cas isn’t going anywhere.” He said in a matter of fact tone.

“Good, that’s good, listen Chuck you’re doing a great job but I gotta run!”

**55555555555555**

The guy has the same voice, same face, same body, it **is** Cas, but it’s certainly not **his** Cas, “Angel of the Lord”. He’s all twisted smiles, hollow laugh and sarcastic replies living in a world of orgy, drugs and fuckin’ Buddha. He cannot help him with his situation that’s for sure. Castiel without his wings and his tax accountant get up isn’t, just isn’t, can’t be and this takes the cake cause’ apparently he broke an angel. And he thought he had filled his quota of guilt but, no, he can still add more. He’s getting tired, he wants so desperately to get back, just get back and forget about all this. He can’t take it anymore, he **understands** he shouts in his mind, he made bad choices and here they are, and here **he** is, lost. But apparently Zachariah still wants to watch him suffer and run around like a chicken with his head cut off, he should have known. He’s about to lose it, about to fold in on himself and whimper pitifully or just het on his knees and scream, scream till’ he broke his voice and can’t anymore when he hears cars pulling up. Getting a hold of himself, deep breath, he gets out with not!Cas on his heels.

So killing a man in cold blood is a thing, cute. Now they saw him and oh he gets the twitchy remark, he can see their fingers on the triggers of their riffles even from where he stands. Future!him seems all kinds of pissed off, the usual then. Said future!Dean gets all Rambo on them and pushes him forcefully in the cabin he escaped from.

“What the hell was that?”

“What the hell was that?” He repeats cause’ really he’s not the one shooting people left, right and center, there’s a difference between twitchy and murderous thank you very much. “You just shot a guy in cold blood!” Still not quite believing it.

“We were in an open quarantine zone, got ambushed by some croats’ on the way out”, he knows he looks stupid at the croats comment cause’ his other self raises his voice, frustrated, “croats’, croatoans, one of them infected Yaeger.”

“How do you know?” Because he might as well learn while he’s at it.

“Cause’ after a few years of this, I know. I started seeing symptoms about an hour ago, wasn’t gonna be long before he flipped. I didn’t see the point in troubling a good man with bad news.” His other self seemed to want to justify himself to him and that’s strange from the guy, he appreciates it but still…

“Troubling a good man…” Is he for real?! “You just blew him away in front of your own people; don’t you think it might have freaked them out a little bit?” He said raising his voice at the end of it, wanting to get a reaction out of the man.

He got one.

“It’s 2014”, like it meant everything, to his future self it might but not him really, he’s just questioning his morals here cause’ if he can do that, what else can he do… “Pluggin’ some croats’, it’s called commonplace. But trading words with my freakin’ clone that might have freaked them out a little!”

Okay, point.

“Alright, look-

“No you look, the other hunter says his firm voice overlapping his own tired one, this isn’t your time, it’s mine, you don’t make the decisions, I do. So when I say, “ stay in”, you stay in.”

That silences him cause’ he sounds like his dad in his worst moment and that scares him more then he could fathom, he loves his dad, worships the man even but he never, never wanted to finish like him. That feeling of pity for the other rises up again and he knows he has to say something,

“Alright man, I’m sorry, I, I, I’m not trying to mess you, me, us up here.” He says shaking his dead to dispel the confusing thoughts, and, well, pronouns.

“I know.” And he’s thankful that future!him stopped him because apologies, man, not his forte.

“It’s just been a really whacky week end.” Understatement of the century.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” And right now he really loves himself and his fondness for alcohol cause’ he really needs it.

After the two of them has taken a good half of their drinks in two strong pulls he asks because he can’t not stay silent,

“What was the mission anyway?”

With an air of self-satisfaction around him, he pulls the Colt, the freakin’ Colt out of his duffel and observes it for a second, seeming to relish his feel in his hands. He gets that feeling, the same he has each time he had the gun in hand, the power. He almost gets hard but that would be just, awkward could not even express what that would be like.

“The Colt”, he whispers reverently.

“The Colt”, the bastard confirms, smug.

“Where was it?”

“Everywhere.” Well that’s not ominous at all, “they’ve been moving it around, took me five years, but…I finally got it. And tonight, tonight I’m gonna kill the Devil.” Raising his glass and finishing it in one trait. Him, gulping it down nervously. Lookin’ intensely at the other smiling man and how can a smile be so creepy on him, he doesn’t know but it is.

Figuring it’s the last time he can ask the question that has been burning his tongue since he talked about Harry earlier and that he really can’t piss the other more than he already did and really, how bad can it get before it’s too much. He gives a leap of faith and asks cautiously cause even though the man still seem in his best disposition so far, he doesn’t know what kind of relationship he has with the younger man here, even if he has his suspicions, it’s the only subject where he can’t, at least more or less predict how future!him is going to react.

“Harry?” He so whispers. The other looks up at him startled out his thoughts and stares at him with such intensity, it’s disconcerting and he doesn’t really know where to look. Then, the other smiles, a small barely there smile but the first real one. He then lowers his eyes down but gets them back up rapidly catching his own and he can see the contained tears moistening his eyes. It’s seem so surreal on the future!him, this vulnerability, that the words he wants to voice gets caught in halfway up his throat.

“You know”, future!Dean croaks then coughs, puts a hand on his eyes, pushing the tears away, “you know”, he says again, “what he would have said if he were here right now?”

“No, he whispers.”

“Of course you don’t, you’ve just met him again right?”

“Yeah”, he says still whispering like if he were to raise his voice the other might stop. “What would he say?”

“Threesome.” The other says simply, certain and smirking, adoration in his eyes.

That startles a laugh out of him, a bit on the hysterical side but a laugh nonetheless. He also secretly files that mental image for future use cause it’s got some serious merits.

“Blushing while sayin’ it right?”

“Oh yeah”, the other confirms chuckling.

“But, seriously, where is he?” That stops the teasing air the room had gotten and he’s truly sorry but he needs to know. The older man regards him, again with that intense look, like he is measuring his worth to know. He seems to come to a conclusion.

“You know, I hate you.” He says simply and okay, he wasn’t expecting that.

“Wha, wha, what? I don’t un-

“I hate you cause’ you just met him again like you’ve said, I hate you because when you’ll get back to 09 he’ll be in the room next to yours, yes I remember, vamps right? I hate you cause’ you still got time with him, you still have a chance, you’ll be able to protect him, **please** protect him where I couldn’t because I was so far up my own ass that I let him get hurt and it’s my fault, my own goddamn fault, too worried about croats’ and other insignificant people where I should have only had eyes for pale skin, dark messy hair and emerald eyes.” There he punches the table with red hot rage that he knows all too well, the rage of helplessness in front of the people you love’s suffering. Love… He’s shocked and grasp for something to say but the man isn’t finished he’s whispering now, drained, “I hate you because you’ll still be able to taste his lips, to hear his accented voice, to touch his skin, to pass your fingers through his stupid messy hair, to just freakin’ hold him you know…”He trails off and seemed to be talking to himself at the end there.

He doesn’t want to ask more but he still hasn’t answered his question,

“But what happened to him?” He whispers still in shock.

The other just regards him with such a tired look that, he gulps but he’s brave enough to hold it, and says, really more like orders,

“Never let him go.”

**55555555555555**

It’s the gathering of the justice league in Dean’s cabin to plan for the grand finale. Cas is lounging, his feet on the table, beer in hand, smile all teeth and sharp still firmly in place, scary Risa too and he doesn’t know how his future self isn’t bothered by the glare she’s sending his way. For now he decides to keep his head down cause’ future!Dean is right, he has no say in this world.

“So that’s it, that’s the Colt?” Risa asks rhetorically with a bit of scorn thrown in there.

“If somethin’ can kill Lucifer, this is it.” Dean says all confidence and he knows there’s also bravado in that statement to comfort the troupes so to speak. Risa isn’t to be deterred and seems to really want to piss him off though and declares with a lot more scorn and sarcasm this time that he knows, Dean won’t ignore.

“Great, have we got anything that can find Lucifer?” She says derisively.

And there it is.

“Are you okay?” Dean says looking like he doesn’t really care about the answer either way and he remembers painfully: Harry and damn it, he still doesn’t know what happened to him. But wanting to be a smartass and because he’s still a bit mad that a girl almost beat him up for something he, this time, actually didn’t do, he makes himself known. In doing so interrupts what was sure going to be a long angry rant courtesy of Risa.

“Oh, we were in Jane’s cabin last night and apparently, we and, Risa…Have a connection…” He says conversationally. Dean shots him a look full of pain, loss and Harry that he can’t hold, he looks away.

“You wanna shut up.” He retorts back and promptly changes the subject to the matter at hand. “We don’t have to find Lucifer, we know where he is. The demon that we caught last week, he was one of the Big Guy’s entourage. He knew.”

“So… a demon tells you where Satan’s gonna be and you just believe it?” Rita says almost snorting and that is a fair enough question as far as he’s concerned.

“Oh trust me, he wouldn’t lie.” That’s cryptic and ominous and he doesn’t like where this is goin’ at all.

“And you know this how?!” Why did she had to ask that question, he doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to know how far off the beaten track he wandered, doesn’t want to know how far from righteous he’s grown to be. Please let nobody answer.

Cas does, and he kinda hates him right now cause’ he knows it’s for his benefit that he’s gonna say what he knows he’s gonna say, he’s even looking at him sideways, the fucker.

“Our fearless leader, I’m afraid, he’s all too well schooled in the art of getting to the truth.” And fuck, that just confirms it, torture, Alistair, Hell, torture. Four words caught in a loop in his head and he has to say something. He gets up, cannot say what he wants to sitting down. He wants to scream at his future self, but he controls it and hides himself behind the wall he built years ago to take on what life continuously throws at him. Sarcasm is what comes out.

“Torture”, he says stunned, “also we’re torturing again, well, that, that’s good, classy…”He says winking, Cas chuckles and seeing the look Dean gives him says with a bit of fake outrage.

“What?! I like past!you.” The other rolls his eyes but he kinda smirks cause yeah, one point for 09! Thanks Cas.

His future self starts spreading a map but he cannot help but add, cause he’s still blocked on torture and him associated like that in the same sentence and from what Cas says, being freakin’ known for it. Jesus.

“You think Harry would approve?” He hates using Harry like that but it seems to be the only name that gets a reaction out of Dean, well except for Sam but he’s still in denial on that one.

Every thing stops, he imagines he can sense the temperature dropping, Cas’s laugh dies down and he can see him looking up at him incredulously like he doesn’t believe he just had the guts to say that, Risa looks around clearly not understanding the thick silence that has fallen on the room, but he only has eyes for his future self, the beginning of the familiar feeling of fear crawl up his spine at what he can decipher from Dean. He’s all coiled up muscles, tension in every visible tendon, fists clenching and biting into his skin and he’s waiting for a punch, anything but Dean clearly reins himself in and promptly gets back to what he was sayin’; namely: killing the Devil like nothing just happened. The tension, however, doesn’t leave the room.

**55555555555555**

When General Asshole has finished giving all the last orders to Cas and Risa, the both of them exit the room leaving heavy silence behind. He’s painfully aware of what he said earlier, doesn’t want to push his luck but Cas is right, the plan is so reckless it’s not even funny. He knows desperation calls for desperate means but he really doesn’t wanna die, his brain eaten by hungry croats’ zombie style the last thing he sees.

“Why are you taking me?” Because he thinks he knows himself pretty well, and future!Dean is clearly hiding something.

“Relax, you’ll be fine, Zach’s looking out for you right?” He states more than questions looking at him derisively with a dark look in his eyes that makes him feel like he’s nothing more than dirt on the man’s shoes.

“No that’s not what I mean, I wanna know what’s going on.” He orders the other to show he really means business this time. He won’t go and follow himself not knowing all the variables. Dean may be on a suicide mission draggin’ everyone else down with him but he’s not.

“Yeah, okay. “He advances on him saying it more prowls all predator like, he feels cornered and he knows he shouldn’t have asked because he should know by now that he never appreciates the answers. “You’re coming because I want you to see something. I want you to see our brother.”

Wait. Rewind. What.

“Sam? I thought he was dead.” If he’s taking him to see his corpse or something, he has a few words of choice to call him.

“Sam didn’t die in Detroit. He said, “Yes””.

“Yes?” He asks in confusion but the other one just stares back waiting for him to catch up. Horrifying understanding downs on him like a ton of bricks and he moves away wanting to distance himself from his own face harshly, even cruelly stating those words like its facts in a history book. “Wait…You mean-

“That’s right the big “Yes”, to the Devil. Lucifer is wearing him to the prom’.”

“Why would he do that?” He whispers, hears his voice wobbling like an out of body experience cause’ this is so much worst than Sam dead, this is agony like he rarely ever felt before, ice forming in the pit of his stomach. He can’t move, can’t barely even talk cause that means…

“I wish I knew but now we don’t have a choice. It’s in him and it’s not getting’ out and we gotta kill him, **Dean**.” Future!him continues with no mercy aware of the deadly blows he’s landing on him and he flinches, puts both his hands on the table like it’s his lifeline and grips it so tight he can feel splinters embedding themselves into his skin, pain that he’s glad for, anchoring him. He drops his eyes and gazed down unseeingly. “ **Look at me**!” Dean got him in a death grip on his shirt, violently pushing his back to the wall. “Cause’ that’s not all, it’s not over, **Dean**.” The other’s face is twisting and turning, a painting of ugly emotions making his features hideous (“you’re gonna die Dean, and that’s what you’re going to become!”).

“ **Harry** , you know the one you just so callously used, you wanted to know what happened, huh?! Well we were on an errand mission scouting for food, medicines and the likes, simple really, we were in groups of two and I turned my back for one second, one little second when I heard that familiar damn fluttering of feathers just before an angel arrives. I turned back, gun raised and there he is: Sammy still as I remembered him from 2009 but he’s not my brother is he. Satan just encircles Harry with his big arms around his thin fragile waist, and Harry so small compared to the Sasquatch seems so vulnerable. And dear Lucifer is here, I knew I should have been runnin’ or shootin’, something! But I only had eyes for those pleading green ones, pleading me to go, to save myself but I just stand there, hands lax and afraid so fucking afraid. You know what the Devil said with my brother’s voice “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him Dean,” his putrid mouth on his pale white neck looking up at me tauntingly. And just as fast he was gone, just gone, taking my whole world with him so easily. And I stood there staring into space for what seemed like a lifetime till’ Cas arrived and asked me where Harry was, I then fell on my knees and I cried, cried and cried until I had no tears left, begged, prayed, screamed myself raw. So yes, I torture and you’re right Harry would probably not approve but he would understand, he always did, but he’s not here is he?! But I know is still alive because Lucifer didn’t lie, why would he when the truth hurts so much worst and I know he’s gonna be there with our possessed brother. I know it, it’s been two years since I’ve seen him and I’ll probably die but I just want to see sparkling emeralds orbs last goddamn time. Is that too much to ask?...”

Dean finally releases him and he’s slumped on the wall, the grip Dean had on him the only thing that was holding him upright, an arm wrapped around his middle like someone stuck a knife there and twisted it. He’s not even surprised at the tears that had started gathering since the beginning of this conversation are spilling down his cheeks. He picks himself up, puts his hands on his eyes pushing till’ he sees spots but they just keep fuckin’ spillin’.     

“So yes, you’re coming with me because you need to see it, the whole damn thing! How bad it gets so you can do it different.”    

"What do you mean?” He asks, getting himself together making his way back to the table trembling and unsteady.

He really should learn from his mistakes;

He shouldn’t have asked.

**55555555555555**

Dean!2014 ordered him to say “Yes” when he gets back, tears in his eyes and it wasn’t even desperation he saw in those eyes, it was regret, guilt and the last demand of a dying man, Cas is human and goes into fights under amphetamines and absinth, the angels gave up (why is he not surprised). Here they are, the whole merry band walking through the rubbles and ruins of what is left of earth or at least Jacksonville like they are the damn Avengers.

They finally arrive in front of a building, Rambo gives his orders and for his part he’s studying the building but when he hears what the other is sayin’ he whips around and looks at him, really looks at him and he doesn’t like what he’s seeing because the guy is lying to them.

“Hey, me! Can I talk to you for a sec’?”

They move away and he gets right to the point.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on?”

“What?” Fake confusion coating his word. Oh he wanna play it like that, okay then.

“I know you, you’re lying to these people and to me.”

“Is that so?” Damn it, they don’t have time for this, he better answer now or things are gonna get ugly real soon.

“Yeah, see I’ve seen your lying expressions, I’ve seen them in the mirror.” The other knows it too; they’re the experts of lying to themselves. “Now, there’s something you’re not telling us.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Seriously?! Well, two can play this game and they’re both as stubborn as the other so this could take a long time.

“Oh really? Well I don’t seem to be the only one of your posse with some questions, so…Maybe I’ll take my doubts over to them.” He quips back already making his way back. A hand stops him. Got ya’.

“Wow, wow, wow, wait.”

“What?” Triumph in his voice

“Take a look around you man. This place should be weight hot with croats’. Where are they?”

Oh, no.

“They cleared a path for us…Which means that this is-

“A trap. Exactly.”

“Well then, we can’t go through the front.” His plan is not reckless, it’s a death note for everyone involved.

“Oh, we’re not, they are.” He says indicating the others. “They’re the decoys. You and me we’re going through the back.”

And, wait…What?! He can’t be serious but future!Dean doesn’t seem to have a humorous bone in his body. Holy shit.

“You mean, you’re gonna feed your friend into a meat grinder!” He just wanna be sure he heard right. “Cas too! You want to use their deaths as a diversion!” Horror fills him cause’ that can’t be him, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t! The other gazes down and he seems sad to do it but he doesn’t seem sorry at all. He understands why he didn’t want to tell him at first, probably knew how he was gonna react and he was freakin’ right too! He couldn’t hold it back anymore, he needed to say it, needed to try to make him see himself for what he has become.

“Oh man… Something is broken in you…” He finally said shaking his head staring at himself till’ he made eye contact again. Trying to convey what he was thinking without saying it out loud. “You’re making decisions that I would never make, I wouldn’t sacrifice my friends!” The other regarded his outrage passively, like he couldn’t care less about what he was saying.

“Right, **you** wouldn’t.” And isn’t that the crust of it. “It’s the ones that made me since we were in this mess actually.”

Okay, other tactic, this one isn’t working at all.

“These people count on you! They trust you-

“They trust me to kill the Devil and to save the world and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do! Talk about weight on someone’s shoulders…But-

“Nah, no, not this you’re not, I’m not gonna let you.”

“Really?”

“Yea-”

He wasn’t expecting it but he probably should have, future!him seemed to have wanted to punch him since the Harry remark and admittedly even before that. He’s apparently a masochist who likes to hit himself, well he did say he hated him. Once again: darkness.

He’s getting tired of this.

**55555555555555**

He wakes up to the sound of rifles going off in the building, shit, Cas! But he knows he can’t do anything now, he has to go around the back like the moron planned. Fuck! He runs and comes to an abrupt stop to the sight of him on the ground a white shoe crushing his neck future!him is looking up at someone that he can’t see behind the wall of white. He thinks he hears “Harry” whispered but he’s not sure. A little more pressure. He’s gone.

The white man turns and he knew it was him since he came onto the scene, knew those shoulders and this back but when he turns and sees his little brother. He stares stunned beyond belief and the other just stares back at him not even surprised to see him there even though he just killed him with his fuckin’ foot like an insect. It’s him, Lucifer, Satan, the Devil… And he has the face of his giant of a brother and, this, this is a nightmare he can’t get out of. Not!Sammy has the gall to look amused, quirks his lips:

“Oh! Hello, **Dean**.”

He’s afraid, so afraid, ice forms in in the back of his throat that he can’t swallow, can’t escape, rooted to the spot.

“Aren’t you a surprise?” He says all smug and his brother’s voice so cold and controlled, distorted. It’s so so wrong… This very voice comes again from behind him and he startles and turns because you don’t want the Devil at your back. “You’ve come a long way to see this haven’t you?”

And he can’t stop running his mouth cause even in the face of evil incarnated, he has to be a cocky son of a bitch. Gathering all his bravado;

“Well go ahead. Kill me.” Is what comes out of his stupid mouth, seriously, you couldn’t have though of something else, cause’ this one, you can’t stop, he probably will, hell, he already did!

“Kill you? Don’t you think it would be a little… redundant?” He questions amused and that seems his default mode when dealing with him. “I’m sorry, he sighs, it must be painful, speaking to me in this… Shape.” He declares approaching him. “But it had to be your brother, it had to be.” Lifting his right hand to touch his shoulder in fake sympathy and he moves away quickly, disgusted. He won’t let himself be touched by Satan, no way. “You don’t have to be afraid of me Dean.” (Yeah right). “What do you think I’m going to do?”

He humors him because it’s the only thing he can do at this point.

“I don’t know, maybe deep-fry the planet?!” He sarcastically retorts. Turning to follow the other’s movement and that’s when he sees him, next to the stupid red rose, kneeling gazing down, face hidden by a curtain of dark hair, not messy anymore but laying limply on his head, even more thin than he remembers him being and sickly pale. He hears the evil son of a bitch still talkin’ but he doesn’t hear it, he just stares and stares and stares some more at the collar and leash, holy fuck, around the fragile neck of…Harry.

“-And how many of you blame me for it…” He hears the other trailing off seeing that he’s not listening to any of his “Sympathy for the Devil” crap he’s spouting. He follows his gaze and smirks seeing where it rests. He kneels down and lifts Harry’s head, the green orbs that used to be beautiful and sparkling, full of life are a muddy, empty green now and he gasps…

“Harry…”

“Beautiful isn’t he?”

“Don’t touch him or I swear…” he trails off cause what can he do really? Lucifer seems to know this too because his smirk widens, smug.

“Oh, I touched him, he’s delicious. So strong and stubborn, I had a hard time taming him too, a lot more time than I usually need but I managed it, took me one year and four months but I did it. He was a white canvas when I got him but I painted him and now he’s the perfect pet, aren’t you **pet**?”

“Yes, master.” A hoarse voice responds obediently.   

Bile is coming up his throat; he wants to puke but plows on, tearing his eyes away from the kneeling form.

“I know what you are”; he croaks and he feels the tears falling down slowly down his left cheek and he hates himself for showing them to the ultimate enemy but he can’t help himself, he feels hollow, this reality has been slowly tearing him apart…

“What am I?” The Devil asks, curious, humoring him.

“You’re the same thing only bigger, the same brand of cockroach I’ve been squashing my whole life.” And even as he’s saying it, he knows it’s not true but damn, does it feel good. “An ugly, evil, belly to the ground supernatural piece of crap. The only difference between them and you; is the size of your ego.” He exhales and hates the other for fuckin’ smiling in response to his insults.

“I like you Dean, I get what the other angels see in you.” Really, cause he doesn’t. “Goodbye. We’ll meet again soon.”

The finality of the word catches up and he doesn’t like being dismissed like that, hates it when the other turns his back on him grasping Harry’s leash pulling on it making the smaller man follow him like a damn trained dog, oh how he hates him, how he’s repulsed by the sight of this white suit that he wants to rip off his brother’s shoulders.

“You better kill me now.” The other stops and turns, all haughtiness and arrogance that doesn’t have a place on his brother’s face, pulling abruptly on the leash and making Harry whimper pitifully.

“You better kill me now”, he repeats louder, because he’s not afraid anymore just so enraged that he sees red. “I will find a way to kill you. And I won’t stop-

“I know you won’t. I know you won’t say, “Yes” to Michael either. And I know you won’t kill Sam. Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up…Here.

I win.

So I win.”

No, no he’ll find a way, he knows he will if the angels thinks that stunt squashed his spirit or made him hopeless (okay he maybe is a little bit) they’re wrong, so wrong. They don’t know us humans, the cocky fuckers, this made him more determined, they’ll make their own future if it’s the last goddamn thing he does. He’ll stop this future from happening with his last breath.

“You’re wrong.” He knows it, can feel it, the clown possessing his brother is wrong.

“See you in five years Dean.” The other says just to hammer the fact in his face and with a flash of lightning him and not!Harry are gone. He makes an aborted move towards Harry just before they go, useless.

He looks around, he’s alone, feels like he’s the only person on earth left, empty inside, blankly gazing at the ridiculous rose in the middle of this mess.

He turns.

Thank God, he’s back.

**55555555555555**

“Nay.”

Because he has come to a decision and he doesn’t have a plan but for now, it’s just pissing the angels off to the best of his ability! Zachariah brought him back in his room, said the usual crap about choices and Michael and saving the world being an angel condom but he learned his lesson and that’s not what the other thought at all and saying that makes him want to laugh in the smug bastard’s face who doesn’t know a thing about him or humanity for that matter.

Just as the other looses his temper advancing on him with heavenly wrath… He feels himself being zapped, thank god for trench coat!Cas. And when he looks at said trench coat and obviously still an angel Cas, he smiles stupidly cause he’s all smooth face and blank expression but it’s Cas!

“That’s pretty nice timing Cas.”  

“We had an appointment.” And the gravelly serious voice saying that…He wants to laugh hysterically and he does because if he stops laughing he’s gonna cry. He grips the shoulder encased in the freakin’ ridiculous trench coat that he cannot help but love right now.

“Don’t ever change.”

Sammy, he needs to call his little bro’ now, needs to see him, needs to hear his voice, needs to see that it’s still **him**. So he does, gives him a place to meet with enough urgency in his voice that he knows has Sam moving quick.

Harry.

“Hey Cas, get me back to my room.”

**55555555555555**

Zachariah isn’t here anymore, thank god, he shoves all his stuff in his duffel fast because he wants to see Harry, to reassure himself again that he’s back, that Harry isn’t a shadow but still the laughing young man that was sitting in his car. He remembers all too well the order, and saying “Yes” he won’t do, but that one he can, he’ll never let Harry go. Fuck, he also needs to see his Baby all smooth black paint and beautiful curves! He runs to the room next door and pounds his fists on the door loudly. He hears the lock and here he is all messy hair, gun in hand and still sleepy eyed looking up at him even though his stance is alert and oh yes, it’s four in the morning.

He doesn’t really feel bad.

“Dean?” The other slurs, accented voice still rough from sleep. “What’s going on?”

He can’t help himself he grabs the other roughly, tucking the smaller man’s head beneath his chin. The dark hair tickling his nose. As he does it tough, he realizes it’s neither appropriate nor cool and let the man go just as quickly as he grabbed him. He feels relief encompassing him cause’ Zach still doesn’t know about Harry and won’t know about him for a long time if he has any say in it. He looks down into emerald pools of confusion and blushing cheeks and smiles softly like he used to do as Smith.

“Dean? Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m fine, he chuckles wetly, “more than fine”, really he insists seeing the skepticism in the other’s gaze. “Long story.”

“Okay… Are you going?”

“What? Oh, yeah, yes we’re meeting up with my brother.”

“We? You want me to go with you? You know I can look after myself right? Castiel can just drop me off to my car and I’ll be fine. I don’t want to intrude-

“ **No**! I mean, no” he says calming himself seeing the younger man startled form; “you’re coming with me.” He orders firmly. And he doesn’t really understand the anger filled look the other is shooting him.

“If you want me to come with you so that you can make sure I’m not up to something evil with my magic, you’ve got another thing coming, Dean! I swea-

And wow, no! He cuts him off cause that’s not it at all!

“No, that’s not, I’m not…Just, please?” And sighs in relief when he sees the other’s gaze softening at his pleading tone, the anger disappearing.

“Okay.” He says softly. “Okay, let me get my stuff.”

He follows the other’s retreat in the room still not wanting to let him out of his sights but he knows he’s being a creeper so he goes for the next thing on his list: Baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually got an alternative version of this chapter where Harry is alive in 2014 and well...Threesome, it's really porn with plot. But I really liked future!Dean in the serie, all broken and full of grief and despair so I thought it would be more believable for the sake of the story if Harry was dead or worse.  
> I might publish it as a oneshot though.


	4. Chapter 10: Idyllic Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own neither Harry Potter nor Supernatural.
> 
> Episode used: Season 5 episode 5: "Fallen Idols".
> 
> Warnings: None...I think.

* * *

_  
_

_ Idyllic Nightmare _

They hit the road and the tension finally left his shoulders at the familiar feeling of the Impala’s wheel beneath his hands, his back resting on her leather, the open road at his front and The Doors playing softly out of her speakers. Harry was sleeping in the passenger side and he couldn’t keep his eyes from sliding from the road to his peaceful form, just to be sure, he thinks, no he was not creepy. He was allowed this sort of behavior after the weekend he’s had but Harry was well and good and with him and nothing will ever harm him as long as he was with him. He knows it’s a foolish thought cause’ he’ll probably be more hurt if he stays with them Winchesters but he just wants to be selfish for once in his life, just once.

**55555555555555**

Harry was still rather confused and secretly pleased by the desperate hug Dean gave him when the dirty blonde hunter woke him up but he filed it away to think about later on. After all the other man seemed rather rushed and tense so he won’t keep him waiting. Packing all his stuff as fast as he could, he went to the parking lot and stopped at the sight that he met there: Dean was stroking and whispering reverently to his car like it was some sort of pet. He let him have his moment but decided to stop him before he got hard at the strangely arousing scene.

“Do you want me to go so that I can let you have your moment with your car mate?” He asked amused, and the jade-eyed man startled, turning quickly around, scratching the back of his head embarrassed.

“Yes, I mean, no, I, just get in for god’s sake!”

“Okay, okay, just tell me and-

“Shut up!”

He lifted his hands in the air innocently, glad that he got his revenge from his own personal car moment the other day.

“Alright, alright, getting in.”

“That’s right.”

…

He woke up at the sound of the Impala parking, looking out the window; he only saw a dirty road and green fields. He shifted his gaze to Dean in question just to see him clenching the wheel tightly, the other’s eyes firmly locked on the trees outside the car.

“Dean?” He softly asked so as not to disturb the anxious man. The other swiveled his head to look at him and he meant really look at him, searching his face with a concentration that made him fidget uncomfortably in his seat. He must have come to a decision because he calmed slightly and return his stare to the front window, passing his hand slowly in front of his mouth.

“Listen, there’s something you should know about my brother-

“Dean you don’t-

“Yes, I do, okay, I do, just let me finish.” The man announced in a voice between a plea and an order that shut him up real fast, looking at him from the corner of his eyes waiting for him to nod. He nodded. “There’s something, hell, several things you should know about my brother and I. Last year was -God this is hard- last year was a difficult year for us and by our standards what I really mean is: it was hell. We discovered some terrible evil master plan and we hunted the demon bitch behind it for the whole year until my brother got her but… The thing is… her death was the last piece she needed…”He trailed off, lost in memories.

“What was the plan Dean?” He asked fearfully.

“The Apocalypse.” Dean answered after a beat of heavy silence looking down at his lap.

What? He can’t- Merlin, he’s serious. He wanted to ask a million questions, how? When? How did Dean let that happen? What was the angels’ role in all this, the demons’? But somehow one question made past his lips.

“What are your roles in this war? Because this is a war isn’t it?” He found solid ground though, war he could do, he could help and if it was the Apocalypse, even if it wasn’t his world, he will make damn sure he’s not put on the sidelines. He won’t sit on his ass drinking tea while the world goes down the drain, not if he could help it.

And he could.

Dean snorted, apparently finding some twisted amusement in his question. “Right for the jugular, huh Harry?” he said glancing at him and probably catching his most serious look so far since Dean met him, he sobered. “Well, you see angels need vessels, meat-suits, kinda like demons, to be on earth but the difference is they need the vessel’s approval to be able to wear them so to speak. My brother and I, we’re the vessels for Lucifer and Michael respectively.”

He gasped, his breath caught in his throat because he knew enough about the Christian religion from his aunt and he knew those names. The Archangels. And Sam and De- are, Merlin…

“You can back out now if you want, Sam and me, we’re going to see this through to the end but you…” Leaving the sentence hanging meaningfully.

“What? No! You think you can drop a bomb like that on me and expect me to just walk out. If you think that about me then you don’t know anything Dean. And don’t try to make me change my mind, it’s not going to work, I can be right stubborn!” He huffed hackles raised and righteous indignation at the suggestion.

“I was afraid of that.” The other let out and started chuckling lowly.

“I don’t really see what’s funny Dean, care to enlighten me?” He sarcastically said.

“Sorry, it’s just you looked like an angry kitten for a minute there.” Harry puffed up blushing and was preparing himself for a long rant at the smiling man when said man abruptly stopped smiling. “Guess you’re in the team now, you do know what you’re signing up for though.”

Harry rolled his eyes because, honestly? He may looked young and frail with his fragile frame and innocent face, he used the advantages it gave him often enough on over-confident killers to know, but he wasn’t a newbie in dealing with arrogant mad man bent on world domination, war or even impossible odds in terrible circumstances plus he had his magic and said exactly that to the blond male.

“Alright, alright, I’ll wait for Sam’s approval to say anything more to you-

He was already opening his mouth to protest the statement. Because he won’t let another person withhold important information from him, especially in the face of something as grand as the end of the world. The other sensing his ire lifted his hand.

-I know, I know, but this is really personal shit with my brother as the lead star and I can’t say anything without him there first.” Dean was obviously not going to back down from this and he understood so he nodded in acquiescence. “Second you need to talk about your magic to us because we’ve been hunting witches all our lives and I know you’re not the same but I just want an explanation and Sam will probably find it something new to geek about.” The rugged hunter smirked with an amused sparkle in his eyes at that last bit.

They stopped talking and relaxed back into their seats in comfortable silence for a while until the sound of wheels reached them.

…

“I was wrong.”

“I won’t let you down.”

“Oh, I know it.”

…

“Hi Sam.”

“What the hell Dean?!”

Oh, how he missed his little brother.

**55555555555555**

They had been searching for the Colt for three weeks now and Dean was at the end of his rope. He needed a hunt, real weird-happenings in a no name town monster hunt; he’d even research if that were what it took. Harry had been riding the back seat since Sam got back in the game and claimed shotgun again and he could see the magic-user struggling to try and reach out to Sammy but his brother was being a mistrustful, cagy son of a bitch who didn’t give him the time of day. ( _The only way he had convinced Sammy to take the green-eyed male with them was because it was the Apocalypse, Cas said he was powerful and they could use him, it unnerved him to use that sort of excuse for Sam to budge)_. That was normally his job and he didn’t like his brother being like him, it reminded him too much of those first few months after Jessica’s death five years back, shit, only five years…it seemed like a lifetime ago.

Sam was being a downright bitch.

Him, he needed Harry, wanted him with them with his annoying little quirks, weird eating habits (weirder than Sam…) and his accent that became ridiculous whenever he tried to fit in by using American expressions.

Dean also knew he was being short, too watchful, surveying Sam’s every moves but he couldn’t help it. He saw the freakin’ future and it wasn’t a good place to be in, Sam had said the big “Yes” to Lucifer. And it wasn’t what it signified literally that bothered him it was all the other stuff it meant: it meant giving up, it meant accepting this _Destiny_ crap, it meant he had failed his little brother and that didn’t sit well with him at all.

Not. At. All.

And yes they were gonna make their own future like he had declared the other day but it couldn’t hurt to be too careful. Call him paranoid and distrustful, of his own blood nonetheless, but after Ruby, the demon blood drinking addiction and all the other crap his brother had pulled last year that seemed to pile on forever.

He wouldn’t, couldn’t afford a repeat performance.

He could feel Harry’s questioning gaze on his face at all times and it didn’t help squat, his confused glances from him to his brother and back again. He could probably feel the undercurrent and omnipresent tension in all their interactions, hell, he felt it and as a matter of fact he was purposefully ignoring it at all cost for the time being. Fortunately he didn’t seem to have the courage to ask the questions that were assuredly circling in his head, at least for now (he was under no illusions that it wouldn’t come out at one point or another). But still, thank God for tactful people.

Harry’s presence with them still lightened the mood more often than not, his cute lack of knowledge on some of the normal things like phones or Sam’s computer, his somewhat funny awkwardness that even made his brother smile (and _wasn’t that a feat nowadays_ ); him being here seemed to also smooth over some of the heavy tension-filled silence Sammy and him seemed to have too many times for anyone’s comfort. All in all, he didn’t regret telling the young wizard, partially, what was going on.

Speaking of which they still haven’t talked to him about Sam’s problems or even told him an edited version of last year. He pressed the matter with Sam almost every day but was shot down every goddamn time.

Even though he knew it would only do good for the three of them, Sam could then confide in Harry and get a good response back because the little hunter would know what to say and how, _he_ could only offer dry sarcastic replies and cracked half-smiles and it wasn’t enough, he wasn’t enough: he was painfully aware of his own shortcomings on this part of life. Their new comrade in arms wouldn’t judge, he just knew it. They also never seemed to have had any time for Harry’s story yet.

Overall, easy to say that their communications issues had reached a new high _(a new low)_.

This wasn’t gonna end well.

Reading the paper on the table in the motel room they had purchased for the night after another unsuccessful lead on the famous gun, his brother being his usual broody self sitting, big shoulders hunched on the bed, and Harry in the room next door doing only God knows what.

Also thank God for this particular arrangement they had, he didn’t think he could have stand the dark haired petite male being with them in close quarters with all the morning woods he had sported dreaming of green pools of emeralds. He was getting lost in them all over again and was beginning to feel the familiar lust pooling in his lower regions that he had thought he had gotten rid off in the shower mere minutes ago when an article caught his attention.

Finally.

**55555555555555**

Harry was annoyed, angry and confused alternatively or all together at once for the whole three weeks he had been with the reunited brothers. Those three emotions were swirling inside of him until he though he would burst with it. He wasn’t blind, he could see all the things they couldn’t or more wouldn’t tell him and it infuriated him to no end but he understood where they were coming from, they were obviously not used to having a third party so he tried to control himself and not snap.

But Merlin, sometimes it was so damn hard not to.

Sam was a completely different person than in the different reality, not as much as Dean, but still. He was a tall hunched man that radiated guilt, grief, pain and despair, his long hair a defensive curtain in front of his hazel-brown eyes. Harry had tried to reach out to him constantly for the past weeks but was always met with a rebuke and mistrust shining out of those eyes that could be described as doe-like but were really two chips of ice when they were settled on him. But he kept trying, because he was, like he had said to Dean days ago, stubborn and Sam’s posture, his situation (well, the little he knew of it) he kind of related, there was kinship there.

He would crack the taller male, he would. He had to, because they couldn’t go on like that, it wasn’t going to work, Dean was obviously pained by their lack of appreciation of one another, so he would, to help everyone ( _mostly Dean_ ).

He was also weary of the hunt for the famous Colt that could apparently kill the _Devil,_ he seriously doubted a _gun_ would do the trick it even if it was the angel’s plan too but he didn’t say anything about his doubts, he could recognize desperate hope when he saw it. All the leads they had followed were unsuccessful which only served to make everyone restless and irritable, not a good combination. He was tempted to just call Rufus and bail on them but even as the though formed he knew he was kidding himself, he couldn’t and wouldn’t do something like that. It was simply not him, if he was actually like that, his life wouldn’t have been the trouble-filled one he had so far.

He just wished they would hunt, save lives while searching for that bloody gun. He knew Dean would explode sooner or later if they didn’t, Sam too for that matter and him, surely not far behind.

He kind of hated the little brother a little too, he knew it was petty but Dean and him had lost the easy companionship and light flirting that had formed their interactions since the vampire hunt in the face of Sam’s dark eyes and permanent frown. Every time it would start, Dean or him would see the clenched jaw and narrowed glare paint themselves on Sam’s features and would stop immediately. They were never alone together anymore and he missed it, which was pathetic of him because he still was in his presence but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t nearly enough.

He was getting sick of it; they really had to all sit down and talk, quick (his nightmares had come back full force and he was sure it was intimately related to the constant agitation permeating the air, he was somehow glad for his separate room…).

He wanted them all to be more relaxed, well as relaxed as one could be during the Apocalypse, he wanted to ease the heavy weight he could always see on their shoulders, their lives stirred something deep within him, he wanted to help them so badly, he wanted to see Dean’s small smile, his bark of loud laughter again, and he wanted to wipe the anxious lines off Sam’s face.

He rarely got what he wanted.

…

He was startled from his light doze by a knock on the door; he quickly grabbed his bag, eager to leave the rundown motel. He opened the door to see Dean smirking and leaning against the wall with a triumphant air about him, “We’ve got ourselves a hunt.”

“Honestly, a real hunt, you’re not messing with me right?” He said excitedly practically bouncing on his heels at the news. Dean smiled earnestly at his eagerness, like his joy was contagious.

“Yeah, would I lie?” He said fake innocent mask firmly in place.

Harry smirked at the look and said mischievously “I don’t know, would you?”

Dean was opening his mouth to respond at the little challenge, spark in his eyes and lips twitching and Harry was kind of hypnotized by all the shifts of his face when a door slamming was heard followed by two sharps barks of their names.

Dean let out a heavy sigh.

Harry let his head drop looking up at the sky.

Patience.

…

They had reached Canton, Ohio in the afternoon after another awkward ride in the signature black car, with Sam questioning his brother and Dean having none of it. They talked of “fresh start” and he really was confused, what had happened between the brothers, they were exactly like Hermione, Ron and him during those interactions in the angel world but now… He was piecing all of what he had heard during those hours on the road, of what he had overheard when the brothers fought and argued so loudly he could hear them from his room but still something was missing, there was something he couldn’t see to be able to put it all together.

He had always been too curious.

They had stepped out of the car and were making their way towards the sheriff office when the two brothers suddenly both stopped and turned around to look down at him with the almost same identical speculative gleam in their eyes that made him fidget in discomfort.

“You can’t go in with us Harry.” Sam said with a nonsense sort of tone that made him bristle. Dean nodded in agreement apologetically.

“I’ll use a spell that will make me invisible and if you’re uncomfortable with it, well, too bad.” And he did just that enjoying the slack-jaws and the stunned disbelief displayed by the brothers, they were rather comical.

Dean seemed to be the first one recovering, clearing his throat and elbowing his brother to get him out of his daze, Sam looked at Dean incredulous for letting him do that, “what the hell” written all over his face. Dean made a movement that maybe stood for “let it go, I’ll take care of it, go ahead we’ll join you”, yes he could say all that with just a simple shift of his head. Sam huffed, clearly annoyed but nonetheless walked away.

“Where are you?” Dean whispered into thin air looking around nervously to see if there was anyone in the vicinity that might have thought he was crazy.

He couldn’t help it, he chuckled, Dean was kind of adorable when flustered, he was glad it was the older man for once. “I’m here Dean.” He said poking the man in the side. Dean jumped practically a foot in the air but got back his self-control fairly quickly much to his disappointment.

“Harry! Harry, you can’t do that sort of crap in public or at least warn us.” Dean seemed strangely unbothered by the display; he was apparently more worried about his safety. That made him a bit euphoric for a second and the best he had felt in weeks to be honest.

“Hey mate, can I grip on your arm or back, I may be invisible but people can still bump into me, I’d hate to cause that sort of panic.” It was true but it was more of a great opportunity to be close to Dean in some way, Merlin, he was hopeless. He was also grateful that Dean couldn’t see the blush slowly forming on his cheekbones. He waited anxiously for the answer.

“Dude, of course, put your hand on my back, besides I’d rather know where you are.” Dean said winking and turning his back on him as encouragement.

Well, he needed no further prompting and put his palm in between his shoulder blades and came closer to the strong back, Dean was so _warm,_ he radiated it and he could feel all the muscles shifting beneath the suit when he moved, it was incredible, all the sensations he could get from just that simple touch.

They made their way inside.

…

A car.

A car called “Little Bastard” was apparently the culprit of the crime they were investigating along with the most stupid idiotic sheriff he ever had the pleasure to meet. Dean had scoffed and rolled his eyes so much during the conversation; his eyes would have rolled out of their sockets if they hadn’t left so quickly. He was particularly glad they were there, because that poor innocent man would probably rot in jail if they weren’t.

They were now in front of the famous sport car that had, according to Dean, belonged to James Dean ( _who ever that was_ ); he would have asked if he wasn’t afraid to be called a heathen by the brothers.

He would research the man discretely later.

He was continuously smiling softly since they had left the station in front of the childish fan boy glee Dean was emanating; it was a nice reprieve from all the awkwardness that steamed between the three of them.

Dean had been adamant about being the one under the hood but was clearly jumpy and adorably anxious though he tried hard to hide it.

He wasn’t fooling anyone.  

The car moved ominously and his own palms were sweating at the vulnerable position the hunter was in. Finally he had the number, waving it around in their faces victoriously with Sam rolling his eyes and him twitching the corners of his lips amusingly. He was catching a glimpse of what the relationship the brothers probably used to have and he caught himself relaxing a bit at the playful banter.

He was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

“Looks like I made your afternoon.” Dean stated finally and they could see the annoyed gleam getting back into Sam’s eyes but it was still playful for the most part so they counted that as a win. Dean quickly sent him on his way and when he was completely gone, turned to him.

“We are going to a bar while college-boy do his thing.” Said Dean with finality in his tone.

“But shouldn’t we help him, or do something case related, he’s right it’s a ton of research.” He responded tentatively.

“Nah, he’ll be fine, he loves it!” Dean exclaimed assuredly looking at him with pleading green eyes and a pout.

How could he resist.

…

“It doesn’t work!” He announced disbelief painted all over his face.

Dean chuckled, “I assure you, it does, you just have to have my body and a business card.” He stated confidently with all the cockiness he could muster.

“Okay then, prove it.” He said in a blatant challenge.

They had been at the pub drinking for the past hour waiting for Sam to call them with some, hopefully, good news. Bantering back and forth bordering on flirting and it felt good to finally be alone with Dean again, to talk freely of anything that passed through their minds, thankfully nothing too heavy, they had talked about the American culture, Dean indignant and shocked at his lack of knowledge on the subject who then had explained to him all about James Dean’s legend with him listening more to his voice and staring at Dean’s luscious lips wrapped around the words than the actual explanation.

How could talking about movies could be sinful, he’d never know.

Right now, Dean and him were arguing about the most outrageous ways he could pick up women. He was kind of alarmed about Dean’s apparent skills at it but he figured he really shouldn’t be surprised, if he was one of those women they had talked about, he was sure he would have said yes to anything the smooth talker could have spout.

Dean, as he had known he would, accepted the challenge with a mischievous smile and secretive mirth in his eyes like he knew something he didn’t.

“Okay, watch and learn Brit boy.” He watched as Dean made his way to the counter, well, prowled was more the word for it, leaning on the bar and oozing so much sex-appeal it should be illegal. He saw him ailing the barmaid and charming crooked smile in place showed her what he assumed was his “actor agent” card (he still couldn’t believe the man had made a card for that purpose only) an excited flirtatious smile made his way on the woman’s face.

Jealousy, fierce and burning settled in him so fast he got nauseous.

Yes, it worked and he hated it.

Dean made his way back, all smug and smiling cockily, at their table and he quickly blanked his features the best he could to hide the ugly feeling out of view.

“And it works.” He said brandishing the phone number like a trophy.

“Yeah, yeah you win mate. I still can’t believe they’re that gullible.”

“It’s my smile, they forget everything I might say in front of that winner.” He flashed the aforementioned smile his way and okay, he understood intimately and better than anyone else what that smile could do.

He blinked dazedly but shook himself quickly; he wasn’t going to give the bastard more ammo. Dean caught the look anyway and his smile widened significantly.

Harry groaned internally but the phone ringing saved him the teasing that was sure to come. His discreet relief sigh seemed to amuse Dean to no end. Not that discreet then…

He could hear Sam’s outrage at where they were on the other side of the line and giggled helplessly, shoulders shaking. Dean shot him a playful smirk, all the while teasing his brother.

So, it wasn’t the car.

Great.

…

Another murder, they needed to stop this thing and quick but they had no idea what was doing it. He loved that kind of tricky hunt, hard to solve, real interesting, he knew it was messed up that he was excited at the prospect of another victim but he had learned to roll with it, those cases reminded him of some of his adventures however painful they might have been; he never fooled himself, he knew he loved it: the adrenaline, the mysteries, the triumph, the rush he got…

Yeah, “adrenaline junkie” (he thought that was the term) could describe him fairly well in those situations. That was how he took so quickly and easily to hunting, even Rufus had been surprised and he was sure not much could surprise the man anymore; this life was perfect for him.

Right now, the brothers were inside checking the crime scene, he had forego the spell he had used earlier, not wanting to test the brothers’ jumpiness. He was instead lurking outside the professor’s office like any curious town’s people, desperate for gossip and a glimpse of blood…

Merlin, how he hated those people, took him straight back to Privet Drive.

Sam and Dean finally got out, he could see Dean shaking his head incredulously, ah, it was probably the oblivious sheriff. He approached the two men, seeing them trying to communicate to the Spanish maid. He repressed his laughter at Dean’s pitiful attempts at the foreign language, the man seemed to have felt it anyway because he turned back shooting him a playful glare, he raised his hands and widened his eyes trying the innocent look that only got him a smirk and a shake of the hunter’s head.

Sam had probably seen the exchange and deemed them useless as he saw him approached the woman with a harmless somewhat soothing pose and doe-eyes in full force.

He started speaking Spanish.

And, okay, that was hot, well, he wasn’t blind Sam was a handsome man, hell, he had seen him bloody naked from the waist up and the guy was packing some serious muscle.

It was clear the Winchesters got good genes.

He hadn’t realized but he had his mouth open and was openly staring at the youngest until Dean elbowed him in the side and he snapped his mouth shut with a click turning to look at the other man who was gazing at him with a strange glint in his green eyes…with what, jealousy? No that wasn’t- No.

Wishful thinking.

He shook his head and tore his eyes away from the other man’s when the maid proclaimed tearfully that it was Abraham Lincoln who did it.

He was glad he knew at least who it was this time.

…

Ghosts of famous people, really? Well, every thing was possible, he reckoned he should learn to stop being surprised with the end of the world happening he was sure that they will encounter crazier, way more dangerous things, he should be grateful it was only a ghost, even if a weird one.

They were checking out the creepy wax museum when he heard cries coming from the main room, he ran as fast as he could back the way he came and found Sam battling with a very little man in diapers and… loosing, he would have laughed, if the man wasn’t strangling the tall man for all he was worth.

“Harry! The glasses, Harry!” The alarmingly weak calls of his name put him back in the present,

“Accio glasses, Accio salt!” He commanded and the items flew in his hands at the same time as Dean made his entrance and he put them on fire with a flashback of the first time he did that. The little mean man disappeared but something didn’t feel right, he didn’t burn out like ghosts usually do, maybe it was even more different than they thought, he put the matter at the back of his mind for now.

“Gandhi, really, you couldn’t be fan of someone cool?!” Dean exclaimed looking at his brother playfully like it was a common joke between the two of them. Sam just shrugged but a light was forming in his usually dark eyes.

Harry let out a relieve chuckle and the both of them fastened their eyes on him, he stopped suddenly at the attention and touched his face, “What? What is it?”

“Nothing Harry, thank you.” Sam said lowly with honesty and he blushed but nonetheless responded,

“No problem, I have your back you know.” He said it with as much sincerity as he could muster for Sam not to have any doubts about this statement even if the man didn’t trust him, he should at least trust that. Sam observed him and he had the strange feeling like he was being judged and weighted. At last the little brother nodded with a new gleam in his hazel eyes when he looked at him, he didn’t have the time to decipher it when Dean clapped his hands and announced,

“Yeah, thanks Harry, nice tricks you got there, you’ll have to tell us about your mojo one day, soon, you know but now, let’s get the hell out of dodge.” He said pointedly with a certain abruptness that made him look at the tan skin hunter who for his part seemed to have a silent conversation with his brother.

Feeling slightly left out, he made his way outside, for them to have their moment or whatever, he couldn’t be jealous of the relationship they had, they were brothers for Merlin’s sakes but he was, he couldn’t help it.

“Harry! Come on.” He startled and made his way to the back seat when he felt a heavy gaze on him, he turned his eyes at the front and caught piercing questioning green eyes, he hold the intense gaze for as long as he could, he smiled a small little smile back in response turning his eyes to the passing scenery. He could still feel the burning gaze boring into the side of his head when suddenly he was free from it; he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

**55555555555555**

His eyes kept straying to the man in the back seat of his baby, he tried to be as discreet as he could be but the calculative gaze he could feel coming from his right told him he was less than successful… But damn, he couldn’t very well help it. He knew his attraction was growing and it frightened the shit out of him, he hadn’t think about a single woman since Harry and him had been on the road and that wasn’t normal at all. He couldn’t deny it really but he was trying hard to because he didn’t want to fall, he knew himself when he fell, he fell hard and most often than not it finished in hurt, disappointment and disaster.

Case in point: Cassie.

The Winchesters curse, man, it proved to be more and more right.

He knew he couldn’t compare Cassie and Harry but she was the only base he had on relationship and it wasn’t really glorious…

But God, Harry was difficult not to fall for, the way he had their backs on hunts, the way he had jumped right in with them to save the world, fuckin’ everything man…

He had seen Harry’s heated look on his brother earlier and twisted irrational jealousy had burned scathing hot in his gut and for a moment he just wanted to grip his face and keep those eyes, this particular gaze only on him, only for him, he wanted to cut his brother, make him ugly, his hands had trembled with hell-fury, his eyes had taken a red hue at the edges and he had had to grip his left shoulder to snap him out of it. He had been horrified at his thoughts and morbidly surprised because it had been a long time since he had had any of what he called, his “Hell urges”.

He shook his head forcefully to get this memory out of his mind; going down that particular road was unhealthy and would only end in misery.

He decided he would do what he does best and not talk about it and try not to think about it, continue to hunt and stop the damn Apocalypse, if something good happened between him and the emerald-eyed man then awesome, if nothing, well, he would have to do something, he didn’t really knew what but something.

For now, he would wait and see.

…

Harry was outside getting them some grub, while Sam was sorting their weapons in the trunk and he decided now was a very good time to get Bobby up to speed on Sam and maybe Harry even if wasn’t really sure about the latter, he had the strange urge to keep him to himself as best as he could, it was futile, he knew, hell, they were a team he shouldn’t keep that piece of info to himself but _he couldn’t help it_.

Apparently that was his motto when it came to the green-eyed hunter.

He heard a click on the other end of the line, “Singer.”

“Hey, Bobby it’s Dean.”

“Dean, back with your brother? Has he stopped being a idjit?”

He chuckled at the term; the gruff accented voice, as always, comforting him.

“Yeah, yeah he’s back from his little “monsters and hunters don’t exist and the Apocalypse is not happening” trip. We actually just finished a hunt.”

“Good, good. No leads on the Colt on my side by the way but I let the words out on the street about it and I’ll keep lookin’, yours?”

“Nothing, that’s actually why we’re on a hunt, I was getting antsy just searchin’ for that freakin’ gun.”

“Don’t insult the classics boy.” The gruff voice responded with a hint of humor, thick accent wrapping around the words and that, that was good to hear, Bobby had obviously not been a happy camper since he was a sitting duck but he seemed more and more able to come to terms with it, “What was the hunt?”

“Famous ghosts!”

“You’re kidding me.” Booby answered with a deadpan voice that made him smile.

“No, Abraham Lincoln and James Dean, can you believe that?”

“Well, shit.”

“Hmmm, maybe the Apocalypse got them all hot and bothered.”

“That’s no good, I have to warn other hunters if what you say is true.”

“Well, we all know whose fault that is.”  

“Dean…” Bobby said in a warning tone of voice. It didn’t deter him.

“Well, I’m sorry but it’s true.”

The port slamming loudly behind him made him turn to see his brother with a bitch face firmly in place, shit, and Harry with a confused look in his green orbs probably feeling the tension thickening to a stifling level with bags in his hands slightly hidden by the towering form of his brother, that sight made him smile amusedly, Harry barely reached the Sasquatch’s shoulder.

“Dean.” He heard Bobby on the other side. Oh he had almost forgot about the older man.

“I’ll call you later.”

“Alright?”

“Yeah, bye.”

He hung up before Sam could explode with him still on the phone, he didn’t want to alarm Bobby.

Harry had probably felt the impending argument and was deposing the food on the table before sitting on the bed, head down and silent. Oh, how he wished he could do that.

He started the conversation like nothing had happened; he knew his brother would bring up the matter anyways.

“Ready to blow this joint?”

“Yeah.” Sam said tightly and he was hoping they could leave it at that but this was Sammy he was talking about besides he wasn’t big on hope nowadays. “But I think it’s not over here, the ghost didn’t disappear like they normally do, it was weird.”

“Harry salted and burned it and he popped out, I called this a win, now let’s go.”

“But don’t you think it’s strange-

“It was a ghost, a famous little dude in diapers ghost but still a ghost, we ganked it, we go, end of story.” He said zipping his bag loudly for emphasis, putting it on his back and going for the door. The English voice however stopped him in his tracks.

“I’m with Sam on this one Dean, it wasn’t normal, we should just make sure we really did it before going you know?”

Dean turned back and seeing the two resolute faces and puppy-dog eyes staring back at him, he rolled his eyes at his own weaknesses.

“Okay, okay, we’ll check for fuck’ sakes. But I reserve the right to say, “I told you so.””

Harry smiled widely back at him triumphantly and gratefully, it was a wonder how much this smile could do to him, his stomach churned and turned and a pleasing sensation filled him until his annoying little brother made himself known.

“So first you drag me into town and then you drag me back out?” He could hear and see the anger simmering behind his dark eyes, the demon blood still not completely out of his system and pulsing around him in waves that he didn’t want to witness, the incredulity was also sharp in his voice but he wanted to make something clear here,

“You ain’t steering this boat.” He stated looking him straight in the eyes.

“This isn’t gonna work.” God he sounded like a whiny girlfriend, his brother was such a fuckin’ girl sometimes.

But okay, he’ll play dumb for now.

“What isn’t?”

“Us. You, me together.” Is he for real? That something you say when you break up, Christ, he already doesn’t like where this is goin’. “I thought I could, but I can’t.”

“You’re the one who wanted back in chief.” He responded voice deep and dark in preparation for the real angry Winchester argument he could feel storming in his brother’s eyes.

“And you’re the one who called me back in.” Of course he did, they’re brothers, it’s the Apocalypse, it’s their fault, they need to make it right together, his little stroll in the future may have helped a little too…

“I still think we got some trust building to do.” ( _Understatement_ , didn’t he understand that?) He stated trying to compromise already, he didn’t wanna fight, he was so goddamn tired of fighting his brother, and they had bigger fishes to fry than to resolve their issues and talk for hours with sympathetic eyes.

“How long am I going to be on double-secret probation?”

Until I’m sure you’re not going to go off alone to say, “Yes” to the Devil in fuckin’ Detroit Sam, he wanted to shout in his stupid face. “Till’ I say so.” Was what came out instead, good.

The door clicking shut behind him made him look to see Harry was gone, giving them privacy, he thanked him mentally for his insight and envied him cause’ he really wanted out of this discussion right about now. He turned back to Sam sighing loudly.

“Look, I know what I did and I’m trying but you’re not making it easier. Harry being there is not helping either.”

“So what? I am supposed to let you off the hook? And leave Harry out of this, this is between you and me.” He exclaimed incredulously cause the guy started the end of the world, that’s not a mistake, that’s- they are no words for how disappointed and betrayed and angry he still felt towards Sam. And did his brother just brought Harry into this, this has got nothing to do with Harry, if anything he had been nothing but good and agreeable to them even with Sam watching him like a hawk as they dragged him into their mess.

“No, let’s talk about Harry, I leave and suddenly you trust a witch, that arrived in one of Zachariah’s stunts I might add, you accept his powers but not mine, we don’t know anything about the guy, don’t you have learned from our mistakes?! From Ruby?”

His brother questioned intensely, moving his big arms in wide circles. And, oh, low blow, he curled his hands into fists feeling his nails digging into his skin sharply, keeping him from punching Sam right in the face for just comparing that bitch to the sweetheart that was Harry.

“Really Sam? You wanna go there? Harry has got nothing to do with that black-eyed bitch and you know it. Now, leave him out of this or I swear Sam I’ll beat you black and blue.” He growled, his voice a rumble and his words harsh and articulated trying to restrain his fury the best he could.

Sam widened his eyes at his dark tone and narrowed them in a glare into two chips of ice on his tan visage but he nonetheless seemed to reign himself in and nodded his head sharply.

“This topic isn’t over but okay, okay…If this is gonna work, if we’re gonna be a team you and I, it has to be a two-way street.”

“So what? We go back to the way we were before?” Look where _that_ got them.

“No because we were never that way before, before didn’t work.”

What? He didn’t understand-

“How do you think we got here?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He said breathlessly, his knees weak at the supposition he could see his brother was trying to make and no-

“Dean, one of the reason I went off with Ruby was to get away from you.”

The little shit, he thought in barely contained rage, so now; it’s his fault that he trusted that damn demon over his own family!

“Are you sayin’ this is my fault?” He whispered looking at him with fire in his eyes.

“No, it’s my fault, but we have to change the way we do things.”

He shrugged helplessly cause’ he wasn’t good at changes, he was a creature of habits, he knew that. “What do you want me to do?” Here, that was safe. He was aware he had a lot of times made it worse for Sam because of what he said trying to comfort him, he didn’t want to make the same mistakes over and over again, see, changes.

“You’re gonna have to let me grow up for starters.”

Thankfully, his phone rang saving him from opening _that_ can of worms.

…

Suiting up as quickly as they could and putting their discussion in the back of their minds for the time being, they made their way to the police office.

The stupid sheriff they had been dealing with since the beginning of the case seemed overwhelmed, finally he was starting to see it was strange with no _rational_ explanation, he snorted at the word…people, man.

He guided them to the interrogation room with two young blond girls crying in.

Paris Hilton…Seriously?! What the hell? This was getting more and more ridiculous by the second. And fuck, he had been worried about Harry since he hadn’t seen him at the motel’s entrance but with the thing that was probably not a ghost still out there, he was beginning to feel dread pooling in his stomach and deep-seated worry fuzzing his brain.

They were rushing out of the building when the sheriff stopped them in their tracks; they turned back, him on the phone trying desperately to reach Harry.

It wasn’t working.

“Just wanted to say a young British man came by just before you got there saying he was the girl’s cousin, I think he went for…huh…well, Paris Hilton.” He stuttered out at their impatient glares. That made his heartbeat doubled and fear enveloped him, that stupid, stupid beautiful but mostly idiotic man. God, he could be anywhere, he could be with the thing right now, dyin’ and he could do nothing to stop it, they didn’t even know what it was, he could even already be dea-

“Dean, Dean, calm down, we’re going to find him, okay? Just snap out of it dude.”

He closed his eyes tightly, breathed in and out slowly, that’s it. He needed to keep it together or he’ll never found Harry.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” He croaked, “Yeah, okay.”

“Good, now, we missed something, we have to go to the morgue and go over what we have.”

“Right…Go to the morgue, I’ll be researching what else it could be in the motel.”

Nodding, they went their separate ways.

…

He was driving like a mad man down the road to the wax museum with the brass axe, a comfortable weight next to him, pagan god, of course, they should have known, fuckin’ hated them as much as demons and maybe even soccer mom witches.

Sammy was trying to calm him down but it wasn’t working in fact, his reassurances only made it worse. If he had the time he would have stopped to consider why he was reacting like that, but now wasn’t the time for chick-flick thoughts.

Fuckin’ Paris Hilton had kidnapped Harry and he was so going to love chopping her bleached blond head off the moment he had the chance.

They arrived at the wax museum and he jumped out of the car, barging in with Sam hot on his trail, they finally arrived at a sort of reproduction of the White House or whatever when he stopped in his tracks, there, in the middle was Harry with blood on his head bound to a fake rock. He barely heard Sam telling him the girl was alive. He ran to him, breathing hard and labored checking frantically for a pulse muttering repeatedly, “Harry, Harry, sweetheart it’s Dean, you hear me, I’m sorry, so sorry but it’s gonna be okay, I’m gonna get you out of here, why did you even come here _alone_ in the first place you freakin’ idiot?! Never mind, I’ll get you out, you’re alive right, yes, unconscious, that’s nothing, right, you’re fine Harry, yo-”

A, by now, familiar blow to the head.

Darkness enveloped him.

…

He groaned and woke up slowly, his sight fuzzy, the unpleasant sound of a knife sharpening and the bitch doing it so close to Harry was like a bucket of ice and he straightened himself up fully testing the ropes holding him in, huh, they were a bit loose, looking to his left he noticed that Sam was fully aware, good. Plan quickly forming, he decided to go with simple, god loved themselves and she seemed to be no exception so they’ll make her talk, goading her into a monologue like all bad guys like to, giving them the time to free themselves and kill the bitch.

He just hoped, she wouldn’t decide to eat the still unconscious Harry ( _why wasn’t he waking up already, he wanted to see his green green eyes now_ ) first.

“Super. We wouldn’t want to miss it.”

He was right, she was gone after, talking and talking about worshippers and the good ol’ days of sacrifices and cannibalism, Sam having understood the plan with just the glance he gave him, keeping her from acting, his bounds were already almost loose enough.

He tuned back in when she prowled on those stupid high heels towards him.

“You can’t eat me. See, I’m not a Paris Hilton BFF, I’ve never even seen House Of Wax.” He stated cockily.

When she started to insinuate she was going to change into his father, he was getting beyond angry and his rage fueled his desire to get his hands on her stupidly thin neck. When she approached Harry, letting the knife glide on his cheek, blood welled up, dark red on his white skin. He saw red but he still couldn’t get out of those fuckin’ bounds.

“But sorry, you’ll have to wait to see your Daddy’s face again. This one’s coming first; all that pure white power beneath his skin, it smells delicious.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s not a fan of Paris either, he didn’t even know who James Dean was.” He said derisively.

“Oh I know, his idol is his Mommy. One dead mother, coming right up.”

Seeing Harry waking up during her rant and immediately fastening his green eyes filled with fear on him gave him what he needed and getting out, he lunged for her, putting her on the ground and punching her, she retaliated and damn, she was strong. He was getting plummeted, hearing Harry’s desperate cries of his name and he had the sudden thought that it would be pretty lame if he died by Paris Hilton when his brother finally appeared and downed blows after blows on the blonde celebrity.

“Dean.” The relief in the English voice made him tears his eyes away from the gruesome sight and he got back up quickly running to him and freeing the still bound hunter. Supporting him when he slumped against him.

“Don’t do that again.” He ordered wearily.

“Okay.” He heard the whisper, breathe warm against his neck, he shuddered but the blood on the other’s face made him forget about any unsavory thoughts replaced by protective instincts.

“She must have hit you harder, we’ll get back to the motel and patch you up. Just don’t go to sleep.”

“Yes Dean then we get out of here.” Was the sleepy reply he got.

“Couldn’t agree more.” He responded staring at the lithe pale man who had his arms loosely around his neck looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, God…He groaned. 

A cough broke him out of his reverie to see his brother gazing at them with an indefinable look in his hazel eyes from a bloodstained face. He flinched at the reminder that gave him, _his brother drinking from a demon like an animal in front of him, his brother screaming in the panic room, his brother licking blood on the corner of his mouth_.

No, no, no demon blood, it’s fine, they’re good.

The pained groan coming from the bundle in his arms reminded him that no, they weren’t all alright.

They quickly left the museum of horrors.

…

He woke up warm and content, that was probably one of the best night he had since he came back from the pit last year, not a nightmare in sight. Felling the bed shift he suddenly realized, he wasn’t actually alone in the bed, he had his right arm around a thin waist and a mess of dark hair contrasting beautifully with the white sheets turned in his direction…Harry.

Ah, yes, he had fell asleep next to him after having tended to his wounds…

He understood the warmth better now.

A sleepy green eye opened and he smiled softly at the cute sight the other made, “Hey.” He said in a rough sleep induced voice.

Harry blushed and fuck, could he stop doing that, it was really testing his self-control. “Alright dude?”

“Dude” was a good word to use when talking to Harry, it somehow managed to distance him from the intimate embrace they were in.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine Dean, thank you.”

“Good. Go pack and we’re out of here okay?”

“Hmmm.” He looked down to see Harry was already burrowing himself back into the covers, taking his pillow and his side of the bed…Holy crap, fuckin’ adorable.

The tent in his boxers was prominent this morning and he quickly made his way to the shower for what was becoming fast a daily morning ritual, he was pathetic.

Getting out, he saw nobody was in the room and put some clothes on, his brother must have gone to get them some breakfast, his stomach growled at the thought, god was he hungry.

The door opening made him turn eagerly and he twitched his nose to scent if there was pancakes involved when Harry and his duffel passed the threshold.

He stopped in his tracks and look at him for a second, before chuckling lowly, “Expecting something else Dean?”

That got him out of his daze, “Yeah, breakfast man, I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry, I swear you’re worst than Ron.”

The familiar emotion of jealousy flared and he asked tightly. “Who’s Ron?” Trying to blank his expression as much as possible.

A sad faraway look itched itself on Harry’s features and he regretted the question immediately, he knew that look, he hadn’t wished to see it on the smaller hunter. “He was my best friend, in the world I came from, he used to eat like a pig.” He smiled wistfully at that last bit.

“Hey, I’m no pig.” He exclaimed in fake outrageousness, he wanted to wipe that furrow off the other’s brows and the only way he knew that worked instantly was bad jokes.

The other looked at him mirthfully and said in a obviously as fake serious tone, “Of course not Dean. How could I even say that?” Putting a hand to his chest for emphasis, he smiled widely, chuckling happily, forgetting about Sam, demon blood, vessels and the Apocalypse for just a moment, however short it was he was down right grateful.

“Hmm, Dean?” The British accent called for his attention that he appeared to always have this days.

“Yep?”

The other sat himself down and sensing the impending serious conversation he sat on a chair and looked at him questioningly, a little bit afraid the younger male would talk about the obvious, at least to him, attraction, bond, thing, whatever they had between them.

“First thank you.”

“For what?” He asked bewildered at the staggering gratefulness he could see in the intense orbs fixing him and holding him in place.

“You know, just taking care of me last night, saving me, letting me stay with you…” He trailed off.

“You don’t have to thank me Harry, that’s normal, like you said, you’ve got our backs, and we’ve got yours, simple as that. For saving you, you’re welcome, I guess; just don’t pull shit like that again. Go in smart or don’t go at all, that’s our sayin’. Okay?”

“Alright, I’ll try, just know that I was known in my old world to be impulsive, you know acting before thinking, that’s me, plus trouble seems to follow me so…”

He sighed because of course they would be with another one.

“Well, I’ll say, it’s no wonder you fit right in.”

He received a blinding white smile in response.

“Dean?” He’ll never get used to his name coming out of this mouth, the way the accent wrapped around it should have been illegal.

“Hmm?” He prompted hearing the wobbling uncertainty added to his name.

“I… This is none of my business but maybe you should leave Sam some space or I don’t know, let him decide what we’re going to do from time to time-

“You’re right, it’s none of your business, and you don’t know squat about my brother.” He said more harshly than he intended but clearly Harry could see through Dean Winchester’s bullshit.

“I know but if we’re gonna stay the three of us together for the foreseeable future, it can’t go on like this, I’m not asking you to tell me all of your secrets, I’m not telling you to hug your brother or anything. I’m just saying I’m not stupid and I’ve felt all the dodged conversations, all the avoided arguments, the tension between you two is bloody awful and half the time I’m not sure if me being here help or not. If you or Sam want, I’ll go. Just, talk to him or make a gesture, action is more your style after all. But the way you treat him… it’s not long before it’s going to blow up in your face and consequently in all of our faces.” Harry rushed all of it out like he was afraid he was going to interrupt him again. But he had no intention of doing that.

And it appears he was right, Harry knew how to talk and how to use those eyes. He was right, hell, Sammy was right, he would have to let out a bit on the leash or else it was going to be last year all over again, he needed to trust his brother to do the right thing like he used to.

Nodding determinedly to himself. “Okay. And don’t go…Please.” He murmured, admiring the slowly forming relived smile on Harry’s pale face. The other suddenly bounded out of the bed and to him, wrapping his thin arms around his waist and tucking his head beneath his chin.

The silky hair tickling him, Harry’s scent around him and electrifying, he kept him like that one arm around his waist the other thrown on his shoulders for more than was necessary when the other detangled himself with the blush he had been expected. He smirked flirtingly down at him.

“Sorry.” The other petite male mumbled, red in the face.

“No complaints on my part sweetheart.” He clicked his mouth and closed his eyes shut at that, cursing himself; the term of endearment had just slipped out with him being none the wiser… He prayed the other hadn’t heard but from the slightly wide eyes, even wider blush and mouth partly open (and God, close your mouth, please.), his prayer hadn’t been answered.

His brother entering the room with food saved him from what would have been a disastrous explication on the word he had used.

…

Sam was the one who drove his Baby out of town.

The little smile and more relaxed shoulders of his little brother and the proud gleam he could see coming from the back seat made it all worth it.

 


End file.
